Poems

Waiting in the Eye and Ear Hospital on Christmas Eve

My eyes burn with atropine –

Hot drops

Pushed from a plastic point

Squeezed beneath my eyelids and left to simmer.

The nurse hands me a crumpled tissue.

In my stinging darkness

I lace it between my fingers

And hold it like a paper rosary.

Then a hand rests on my shoulder

And they promise it won’t hurt for long.

I am a brave soldier who must keep his head back.

I am a big boy who must be strong.

And outside –

The sleigh bells

Throw wishes at the rain.

I am longing for the first light of Christmas –

I am burning to see again.

STEPHEN KENNEDY

Zen Christmas

To be Zen

facing into Christmas.

As if, in a canoe,

you suddenly hear

thundering rapids

around the next

bend in the river,

and become

very calm

very strong

very stoic.

Now open your eyes.

It’s St Stephen’s Day.

You are still alive.

Your canoe has not

crashed on a rock.

What’s more

you are holding

a big hunk

of juicy leftover turkey

on your fork.

JULIE O’CALLAGHAN