Sunday, December 21, 2008

Keening

Ten years ago
A stranger came
And took my father’s soul
That very same day,
I met my new mentor,
The bean caoinadh of old.

Today I can't get,
This thought out of my head.
The old lady is with me rocking and weeping,
Together again we are mourning as such,
Although he is not dead.

Despite her shadowy presence,
there is a certain comfort to her song,
But my heart is tired,
And I canne bear to think
how long this may yet go on.

I am supposed to be young,
And happy and carefree,
But my father's living death
Has taken this from me.

My friends wonder what gives me this dark side
Why there seems always to be a cloud,
My father's illness doesn't seem to be enough,
For such feelings to be allowed.

But I can't help it,
No matter how much I try,
The old lady continues to sit in my heart,
Why is this grief so strong and undeniable,
That from my friends it sets me apart?

Others' loved ones die,
And they seem to carry on so well,
Why do I get to wallow in
What seems sometimes to be
Just a self-created hell?

I try to look for a way out,
But all I come across is walls of grief,
I look for a way to be whole again,
But it seems that death,
will be the only relief.

I'm tired of being a whining child,
I'm tired of not being able to move on,
But until the day Dad leaves this world.
I know I will hear her song.

(N.S.)
Written June 2008

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Just for info.
caoineadh = lament
Keening = lamenting
The bean caoineadh was a lady who did the lamenting in loud high pitch tones on behalf of the family but could also be a member of the family