Tuesday, June 29, 2010


To understand
A little of how a shaken love
May be sustained
The giant stillness
Of a willow
After a storm.

This morning it is more than peaceful
 But last night that great form
Was tossed and hit
By what seemed to me
A kind of cosmic hate,

An infernal desire
To harass and confuse,
Mangle and bewilder
Each leaf and limb
With every vicious

So that now I cannot grasp
The death of nightmare.
How it has passed away
Or changed to this
This clean peace
That seems so unshakable

A branch beyond my reach says "It is well
For me to feel
The transfiguring breath
Of evil
"Because yesterday
The roots by which I live
Lodged in apathetic clay.

"But for that fury
How should I be rid of the slow death?
How should I know
That what a storm can do
Is to terrify my roots
And make me new?"

~ Brendan Kennelly ~
(A Time for Voices)

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