Greetings from an extended family holiday in Westport, Ireland celebrating Dad Conway’s 80th birthday. We are, as you read, currently visiting the Cliffs of Moher. So, I thought this week’s pic might help capture the spirit of our adventures.
As for this week’s poem…
The original title was “pall of Lir.” It just sounds so mythically dramatic, doesn’t it? And there is no doubt our narrator has reached (literally & fuguratively) the end of the trail… a “to be or not to be” existential moment.
But, for me, the 3rd stanza reconciles these dark thoughts with some sense of magic and perhaps a bit of hope. Not perfect. It never is…. but… enough. Thus, the updated title.
We all have to confront loss and loneliness in our lives. And it is damn hard. So damn hard, at times.
You see, the reason I love writing dark, sad poetry is that it requires us to struggle through the difficult words and the difficult feelings. Look it in the eyes.
It forces us to acknowledge the darkness, so that when hope presents itself, we appreciate the light all the more.
I genuinely hope you enjoy reading this poem as much as I did writing it. Please let me know your thoughts and feelings in the Comments Section below.
-PS Conway ☘ ☘ ☘
☘ ☘ ☘ ☘ ☘
enough for today
the long climb to our secret place
where the remains of our seaside cottage
race with maudlin memories, fill these eyes
solemn vowed ne’er to cry again
far below a gray ocean chides
plush green grass grows o’er the beckoning crags
tides – relentless – require my attention
i smell you on the whispering breeze
close my eyes
one step is all
but this pall of Lir fails to ply
me from this sacred place where your grace
still flies soft in the dusk of faerie shine
that sparkles ‘round your weathered cairn
you are here
and so am i
and that is enough for today