Let each step be a prayer
and not escape, even if you'd venture
to the far ends of the earth.
Dare to walk on air.

Chance turning a blind eye
to the present moment
and you might miss your proper life.
Be patient as the mare beneath her fly

mantilla. Be still in tender
times. Along the riverbank
dark birds extend their wings
in versions of surrender

and then, when they take
off, they soar. Heed their sermons.
Heed morning's constant benedictions, winds' histories. Bend, don't break.

Credit that part of you
that hopes to be haunted
or lies submerged
like the three streams of Loughcrew

whose principles are graven
in your bone. Bear with this
Polonius – and trust the heart.
The heart's a haven.

You'll wonder if you're seeing
things as you awaken
to the need to dream
new maps into being.

Choose quietude. Don't shy from silence.
World needs be
no more than itself. Imagine.
Abjure the social violence

that has fractured families,
homes and hearts – we let go
the loved one, not the love –
and shattered whole communities.

Say never again to The Wild Irish Rover, no more to The Minstrel Boy.
Give us back our sons and daughters.
Say that Ireland is over.



From Strong, My Love (Gallery Press), Peter Fallon's new collection, which
has just been publised by Gallery Press. He is the subject of Peter Fallon: Poet, Publisher, Editor and Translator, which was published by Irish Academic Press last year