It seems appropriate to make another jump in time in my memoirs and share this one in Holy Week. At this time of fear and loss, it may even help some others to learn about the loss of my first—and at the time only—child, but know that one can survive and come through...
Since it was meant to be the first day of Spring last Friday, the 20th of March, but many of us no doubt are feeling confused, bewildered and perhaps lonely, I thought it might be nice to lighten the mood briefly with this poem. I wrote it some years ago when I was in...
I do remember one briefly lovely time during my hospital stay in Gorseinon Cottage Hospital. There was a boy in the next bed to me for a while who had been in hospitals on and off all his life. His legs seemed to be twisted, rigid in plaster and were pulled right up...
This poem was written in 6th Century Ireland, probably by Íte, who was an important church-woman. The poem is to be found in the commentary on Félire Óengusso. Translation by Gerald Murphy. It is a wonderful poem and doesn’t really need any comment, but at the...
The heart is a pumpthey told us at the school of medicineback when I was youngit has four chamberseach with its own and separate taskto circulate the bloodall eight pints or more of viscous fluidthen there’s all the tubesthey saidthey are containers tooit would all...
