Aug 2018
LEACHT CUIMHNEACHÁIN
( Memorial Monument )
Oh if only I
had an ounce
of your laughter
an iota of a smile
but you are where
all measurement falls away
and time itself
tatters and tears
fades
memory both
blessing and curse
the ghost
of the mind.
I make you a cairn
adding word upon word.
I call your name
to make you real again
"Brian...Brian. . .Brian!"
( Memorial Monument )
Oh if only I
had an ounce
of your laughter
an iota of a smile
but you are where
all measurement falls away
and time itself
tatters and tears
fades
memory both
blessing and curse
the ghost
of the mind.
I make you a cairn
adding word upon word.
I call your name
to make you real again
"Brian...Brian. . .Brian!"
***
He was chopping wood and I was gathering turf when I had to remark on a little heap of stones: "Ha look at that Bud...ya would swear blind someone had built them up!" And he said: "Yeah...I did!" It looked both natural and at the same time had an arrangement ya wouldn't find in nature. Bud said: "Ya know when ya told me that there is always a little collection of stones placed in some pattern on French graves....well, when I am working I just take a stone from here and there over a period of time and let it build into whatever shape it wants to be. I call it a monument to the moment and I build them ever since Mam died. I take bits and bobs from the landscape and build them to touch the sky in their own little way to talk to herl...to somehow reach her in this little simple act. People either notice or they don't...or walk through them and I just build another and another in time time after time.
I do this now for him...my little brother and for my Da. But I also build a cairn of words placing one on top of another and let them find their own way and their own balance. So if you are ever passing Dempesys and see a little clump of stones stolen from the landscape to talk to the sky then ya know who they are talking to.
With such little things does one try to fight off the immense sorrow and loneliness.
Words and stones...stones and words...both are never enough...never enough.
The best thing I can say about myself is that I am. . .
BRIAN DEMPSEY'S BROTHER
He was chopping wood and I was gathering turf when I had to remark on a little heap of stones: "Ha look at that Bud...ya would swear blind someone had built them up!" And he said: "Yeah...I did!" It looked both natural and at the same time had an arrangement ya wouldn't find in nature. Bud said: "Ya know when ya told me that there is always a little collection of stones placed in some pattern on French graves....well, when I am working I just take a stone from here and there over a period of time and let it build into whatever shape it wants to be. I call it a monument to the moment and I build them ever since Mam died. I take bits and bobs from the landscape and build them to touch the sky in their own little way to talk to herl...to somehow reach her in this little simple act. People either notice or they don't...or walk through them and I just build another and another in time time after time.
I do this now for him...my little brother and for my Da. But I also build a cairn of words placing one on top of another and let them find their own way and their own balance. So if you are ever passing Dempesys and see a little clump of stones stolen from the landscape to talk to the sky then ya know who they are talking to.
With such little things does one try to fight off the immense sorrow and loneliness.
Words and stones...stones and words...both are never enough...never enough.
The best thing I can say about myself is that I am. . .
BRIAN DEMPSEY'S BROTHER
