Which is the Dream?

by Ann Irwin

Last night I dreamed
I walked the crunchy grass at Duacheen
speckled purple and yellow
ragged robin vetch and trefoils
the scent of rising tide and primrose
the air cool, fresh, the sun pale
the only sound, the lap of sea, squawk of diving gull
the cry of curlew.
My head empty, my body soft.

I wake, ask google to turn on the news.
I hear last night’s bombs
dropped on Gaza, twenty people dead
I can’t unsee the rubble
Can’t unhear the grief of mothers
the despair of fathers
hugging the bodies of their dead babies.

In Ireland the stories continue
of groups of men who used their holy privilege
to rape the boys in their care.
women tell of nuns snatching their babies
to sell to the highest bidder,

My stomach churns
Why were we so powerless then
Why did we not cry out
Why do we not cry out now
so loud our voices are heard above
genocide playing out before our eyes

What is it to be human?
When did religious ideology rob us of our wholeness
When did we replace wholeness, with the false gods of power
We, submissive lambs following blindly.
When did we stop seeing the beauty of the world
the essence of plants the majesty of trees,
the spirit of animals roaming earth and ocean
When did we stop hearing bird song
When did we stop paying homage to the grace and power
of river, mountain, sea and sky
Who told us the earth was ours
to be ruled by the self-appointed Holy Ones.

Words

by Anne Irwin

If the undead populated the world
would there be no poetry
no blue stream binding words
no soft flow of dreams
connecting.

Would words be hollow
unable to capture the twist and turns
of experience.
Would words only justify intent.

Could the undead commandeer
human land and homes
could they justify by saying
we’re fighting human animals
let’s see how they survive
without fuel, electricity or food.
they’ll get what they deserve.

if the undead bombed human cities
watched the buildings crumble
mothers and babies crying in the rubble,
famine spreading
and then called it self defense
would we as humans accept their story?

That is not what it is to be human.
Would we not reach deep into the cauldron
of our experience
and haul those words from the underworld to the surface
because our hearts revolts against the corruption of words

Our heart seeks truth in words.

Slow and Steady Wins the Race

by Anne Irwin

Gather from the gutter
ye outsiders and ruffians
we’ll fatten you on ideologies
blood you for battle
prepare you for war.

Send you to hill tops, knolls and hillocks.
to stake out your promised domain
we’ll give you the land, subsidise your houses
with umbilical roads leading west to our homeland
we’ll make you powerful with assault rifles and guns .

Intimidate the land owners
by stalking their children
pointing guns at the four-year-olds going to school
growl obscenities at everyone passing by you
burn olive groves, ransack homes.

A phone call away there’s an army that’s ready
to help if landowners begin to react
that’s your call to action, the excuse is protection.
to justify ravaging homes,
killing families, children, neighbors
laying claim to this holy land so pure, so glorious
Remember it is yours by the right of your birth.

But be wary of international watchers and monitors
keep it low key to test the heat.
Don’t embarrass the US your godfather, your protector
they’re lining our pockets with billions a year
to annex the West Bank to our promised land.

Remember the US has their agenda.
Slow and steady wins the race.

Image above: Palestinians inspect the damage following an Israeli airstrike on the El-Remal aera in Gaza City.