Sunday, 7 December 2008


Croagh Patrick in Mayo, where the saint
is reputed to have prayed and fasted.
Before we learned to fly
Hills were our only launching pads
From which tired plane dwellers
Could hope to touch the clouds,
The nearest any Mystic got
To catching ethereal bodies…
Grasping concepts of timelessness,
The pulpit-places for seeking Prophets-
Men burning to talk with holy God…

Hilly peaks of prayer and meditation,
There, on windswept worlds apart
Gathered Seekers of a world beyond,
Those not satisfied with ‘seeing’
Grown tired from ‘hearing’
Jaded with earth’s solid bread
Tip-toeing on mountain tops
For food Celestial
Gerard O'Shea