My Father, Long Dead

Sat, Jul 20, 2013, 01:00

My father, long dead,
has become air


Become scent
of pipe smoke, of turf smoke, of resin


Become light
and shade on the river


Become foxglove,
buttercup, tree bark


Become corncrake
lost from the meadow


Become silence,
places of calm


Become badger at dusk,
deer in the thicket


Become grass
on the road to the castle


Become mist
on the turret


Become dark-haired hero in a story
written by a dark-haired child



Eileen Sheehan: lives in Killarney, Co Kerry. Her collections are Song of the Midnight Fox and Down the Sunlit Hall , published by Doghouse Books. She has worked as poet in residence with Limerick County Council arts office.