Orlaith wrote this poem when she was fifteen years old, and when I read it, I could see her father standing in front of me and hear him as he bounced from one topic to the other and the enthusiasm in his voice. She paints a wonderful image of her father as he tells stories. I can only hope that those of you who read his material on these pages get the same pleasure as those of us who listen to him.

To My Father
Orlaith Hearns (aged 15)

In years to come when I am grown
And sense and truth come to your words,
When deafened youth no longer screams
Defiantly in wisdom's face,
I see them now the memory triggering sights...

Alone on the edge of morning,
The sun shedding light on confusion,
I picture you chanting the magical words of mystical men,
Furtively trying to enlighten,
The mind a sleepy tangled web of dreams.

Walking the infinite deserted shore,
I sense the eternal presence of your spirit,
As a wrathful gull screams it's warnings
To hesitant fledglings
So too is your constant echoing cry
Engraved upon my soul, forever guiding.

Resting alone in cool, menacing shade,
Having parted ways and faced responsibilities
A reminder of your greatest gift ever,
The sun creeping towards me.
Bringing warmth and security,
Such feelings always present,
Because of your love for me.

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©Orlaith Hearns March 2001

© Ed. Butler March 2001