I live in Dublin, Ireland. Sometimes. Most times I live in my head, quite unaware of my surroundings – if you know what I mean… If you succeed in tracking Sean Walsh, please let me know, ok? I've been searching for him for years…
Hail Mary… Hi… Hello…
Are you there – or are you on your travels?
‘Above – or beyond in Yugoslavia?
I, I’m never too sure when I have you,
to be honest. But then, you’re a female.
So I don’t find it all that surprising…
There was this shrine, as I recall.
Oh, well known it was, locally…
We walked the three miles, there and back.
‘Out the country, ‘summer’s day…
‘Boots that needed mending.
Six miles in all. A killer…
‘Knelt for the Rosary.
Nudging, gawking around,
stifling a giggle…
Every bead a penance…
‘Grass trodden underfoot
by previous pilgrims.
The tree and the hollow,
the rock and the glade,
the stream where we filled our bottles
to carry home.
Our salute to you wafting out
on the warm, still air:
‘Calling to pray… Ave… Ave… Ave Maria…
The Lourdes statue marking the ledge
where you appeared… whenever it was,
to whoever it was… reputedly.
We had you to ourselves in those days –
before you took off on a world tour…
Holy Mary, Mother of God…
And mine. My mother… Yes? Hmmm…
Well, I’ll tell you, straight up:
they’re not all like you. Women.
Some of them can be right – !
Ah, I won’t say it out – out of respect…
You… you came through it all
with hardly a scratch, so they tell me.
And now you’re on a direct line to Himself:
easy access, unlimited credit,
excellent equity, buoyant stock –
in-in-interceding for us…
All I’m asking is that you put in
a good word for me –
hoping you’ll understand,
even if He doesn’t –
so when the time comes
I, I won’t be caught
on the wrong foot…
If… If you know what I mean.