Tree in the Rain
Go in peace,
go with joy into the soft rain
which never ends.
Rain without end.
Go in peace
under the rain
the Liffey Arms, O’Rourke’s,
the horses.
Sundays without end.
Rain without end.
Some of us make our way
to the memory tree.
Desmond has a list of the dead
and he says a few words
about each one
though even as he speaks
the list is growing.
This could go on for a long time
he says
and the rain is forever creeping
down my neck.
Dermot plays the flute
and the priest
who looks as if he could do
with a Sunday roast
is asked to say a few words:
Let the souls of the departed
make their way to the heavenly
father without hold up
or hindrance
or unnecessary delay.
Amen to that we say.
And Killian reads a poem.
Some of us are holding umbrellas.
Finn says there’s a rumour
the rain might scoot away
tomorrow,
or the day after that.
For a moment,
praise the lord,
I see a light
hovering above Finn’s head.