Collection of poems
A prophet without a message,
A king without a throne,
A wizard without his magic,
And a man without a home.
The prophet dreams his message,
The king succeeds to his throne,
The wizard earns his magic,
But the man must search for his home.
The horse reared and struck him in the face, plunged and threw her. Briefly, in the air, she wondered who the new man was, and if he heard the crack or only felt it. Then she knew. She landed on her neck, and sound and searing pain were one. And then, a kind of peace. They told her not to move.
When she woke, she asked his name, the groom the horse had killed.
“You can see him if you like. He’s been asking for you.”
“He’s alive? Oh, send him in.”
She found his face imprinted on her memory, the way it looked before the bandages.
“I'll never walk again,” she said.
“My eyes are gone,” he answered.
But his arms were strong and strengthened bringing her to morning gallops and the races. She delighted in the rhythm of his stride, and as her vision grew she told him shapes and colours – sharper, brighter now – and movements deeper than she’d ever seen when she could walk.
“Move her carefully,” they said.
Her toes itched and woke her.
Fire chewed her legs and spasmed up her spine till hot teeth gripped her neck.
Her head seemed severed.
Eyes widened apprehensively, then shut.
They never knew what prompted her to say,
“Goodbye, my Pegasus, my ...”
A Christmas Star
May you always see more
Than reaches your eyes.
May you never grow old
Before you are wise.
May your wisdom grow lovingly
Childlike and pure,
And your strength grow with wisdom,
Your vision be sure.
May your vision be guided
By seeing afar –
Beyond earthly boundaries –
A Christmas Star.
May you always see shining
In each human heart
A starry reflection
That sets it apart.
May each heart share with you
What cannot be told,
And bring you more beauty
Than eyes can behold.
May the beauty you find there –
Love, laughter, and tears –
Make you Childlike in wisdom
The rest of your years.
you sucked light
for Belfast poet Padraic Fiacc,
raised in Hell’s Kitchen, New York