I implore the future to hear
the sweet music poetry picks
from the present, glinting
like sea glass reflecting light.
Words, lines and stanzas contain more
truth and beauty than damaged earth.
Youth and middle-age are gone,
more fleeting than memories kept
in journals left outside in all weathers.
The mind tries to preserve things
it lacks the ability to store,
creates images that get
blurry and grey like Gweebarra
fog at dawn. A beloved homeplace
seems as solid and lasting as granite,
able to forever preserve the sound
of Atlantic winds lashing the window,
the comforting scent of the oilcloth
on the kitchen table, family outlined
in shadow before the hearth. Everything
disintegrates. Yet I believe
in the otters, puffins and seals
frolicking beyond the waves. I shape
my yearning to the air of the singer,
hope for a fertile summer
writing poetry in the turf-shed,
whittling my life and loves into song.
In the blue-pink twilight of the evening
I tune my ear to the landscape’s singing,
stretch out on my townland’s damp grass, pick
out the notes of the melody, attack
despair, beg the future to hear.
Note: This poem is a terminal utilizing the end-words from Seamus Heaney’s The Singer’s House.
Nathanael O'Reilly
Nathanael O’Reilly is an Irish-Australian poet. His collections include Landmarks, Selected Poems of Ned Kelly, Dear Nostalgia, Boulevard, (Un)belonging and Preparations for Departure. His poetry appears in 125 journals & anthologies published in 15 countries. He is poetry editor for Antipodes: A Global Journal of Australian/New Zealand Literature. (Headshot by Celeste Jenkins-O'Reilly)