February 2026
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Flour. Aprons. Presence.
For many of us, faith is encountered not first through abstraction or silence, but through texture, rhythm, repetition, and shared work. This poem emerges from the sensory world of baking—warmth, fragrance, patience, and touch—and attends to grace as something embodied and practiced rather than merely believed. Written to be read, prayed, or sung, it traces… Continue reading
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Lines. Rise. Twice.
When the Words Arrive Twice This morning I wrote a poem for a grieving friend. The words came quickly—not rushed, but with that quiet certainty that sometimes accompanies deep care. They felt true. They felt needed. They felt like mine to offer. And yet, before I pressed “publish,” I did what many of us do:… Continue reading
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Held in the humming
A poem expressing the medical treatment I experience. The morning hums its fragile tune,the clinic lights grow bright;on Monday, Wednesday, Friday dawnsI take my steady rite.The lines connect with practiced care,the blood begins its round;a pilgrim held by humming pumps,yet rooted in this ground.Twice yearly comes the Dublin trip,a check that keeps me true;HIV’s a… Continue reading
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Kept on honour
From Bushmills’ coast the malts arise,Black Bush with warmth that stays;The ten-year bright with morning light,The sixteen deep as days.The Reserve kept for nights of cheer,Firelight falling low now;A quiet dram, the hour held still,As amber shadows glow.A pink gin softens fading light,Sloe gin warms the cool air;And port, when taken gently warm,Brings peace beyond… Continue reading
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God’s Whisper Everywhere
A short poem in celebration of God’s whisper written during a restless night. Continue reading
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Platform Wait
The platform wind cuts through my coat, My patience wears too thin;Two hours between each wretched train— What state are we all in?A bank-day hush lies on the tracks, The cold seeps through my bones;The loudspeaker stays deathly mute, Ignoring all my groans.I pace the boards, I stamp my feet, I mutter at the sky;So who designed this dismal plan And… Continue reading
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Soft. Anchor. Steadfast.
Otto sits gently by my side,Grey Belfast hoodie wrapped with pride;A quiet friend who does not speak,Yet offers calm when days feel bleak.His soft paws rest within my own,A steadying weight I’ve always known;He comes to dialysis with me too,And helps me face what I must do.When noise or brightness starts to swell,He anchors me… Continue reading
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Umbrellas. Flowers. Puddle.
The rain beats softly on the glass;the ward keeps steady time.A holiday that will not pausefor weather, will, or rhyme.Coats drip in corners, umbrellas closelike flowers bruised by rain.The nurses move with gentle poisethrough hours long and plain.Your blood flows out, your blood flows in—a tide you cannot sway.Yet kindness holds you, calm and thin,through… Continue reading
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Walk. Prayer. Grace – “We walk Saint Brigid’s way today”
We walk Saint Brigid’s way today We walk Saint Brigid’s way todayThrough Monasterevin’s grace;With pilgrim hearts and steady stepsWe seek God’s holy place.We gather at the parish church,One family in prayer;To bless the road, to share the light,And meet Christ walking there.We thank you, God, for shepherds sentTo guide this flock with care;For bishops who,… Continue reading
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A Lenten Chapter in The Church Is Open
Lent is not a performance. It’s a season of showing up. The Church Is Open: Lent continues The Church Is Open series with quiet, story-shaped reflections rooted in the life of a city parish that keeps its doors open when faith feels fragile and answers are scarce. This is not a manual for Lent. It’s… Continue reading
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