Moses, that fiery prophet, discovered on the barren
árdán of Horeb, that the tree of life burns on
and the world turns; beloved of old-time Yahweh
he died, the Almighty’s fierce embrace about him.
Our neighbour – who lived a long, unspectacular life,
in his cottage habited down the generations, at the tail
end of a shadowed bóithrín, and who loved to pause
by the uptangled ditches on the lane-sides – has died,
kissed discreetly on the lips by the gentle Christ. Now
John-James is hearsed along cattle-lanes he had walked,
head high with knowledge and the old Mosaic covenant.
These country fields and well-trodden paths will embrace
each death as they will welcome rain, a flight of swans
or the failure of a crop; so the old man is slowly following
along our axis mundi, while at crossroads, farm-
gate and kitchen door, neighbours wait for the cortege
to pass, to offer homage to something we are not quite
sure of; for in our deepest hearts we will embrace the ghosts
that wander about our winter sheds, our summer yards,
and talk old legends, local histories, the promised land.
John F Deane’s most recent publications are Selected and New Poems (Carcanet) and a memoir, Song of the Goldfinch (Veritas)
árdán of Horeb, that the tree of life burns on
and the world turns; beloved of old-time Yahweh
he died, the Almighty’s fierce embrace about him.
Our neighbour – who lived a long, unspectacular life,
in his cottage habited down the generations, at the tail
end of a shadowed bóithrín, and who loved to pause
by the uptangled ditches on the lane-sides – has died,
kissed discreetly on the lips by the gentle Christ. Now
John-James is hearsed along cattle-lanes he had walked,
head high with knowledge and the old Mosaic covenant.
These country fields and well-trodden paths will embrace
each death as they will welcome rain, a flight of swans
or the failure of a crop; so the old man is slowly following
along our axis mundi, while at crossroads, farm-
gate and kitchen door, neighbours wait for the cortege
to pass, to offer homage to something we are not quite
sure of; for in our deepest hearts we will embrace the ghosts
that wander about our winter sheds, our summer yards,
and talk old legends, local histories, the promised land.
John F Deane’s most recent publications are Selected and New Poems (Carcanet) and a memoir, Song of the Goldfinch (Veritas)
