I have posted photos of Glencomeragh in February and photos of Glencomeragh in August. Glencomeragh was a Rosminian retreat centre near Kilsheelan (which is in Tipperary, but Glencomeragh is across the Suir in Waterford) which has more recently been home to the Holy Family Mission.
This poem is on a slightly faded board near Glen Falls, at the end of a boardwalk. On the other side of the board there is another poem I will perhaps post sometimes. The slideshow above shows each stanza as it is laid out on the board. This is just beside Glen Falls:
Agnes Hunt is the winner of the 2012 Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty Humanitarian Award for her work for the Irish Council for Prisoners Overseas:
The grounds for the Award were quoted as follows: Agnes was the first woman to be appointed to the chaplaincy in a male prison in England, 34 years ago; she continues to keep contact with long term prisoners up to the present time and she was nominated due to her commitment and empathy towards prisoners abroad and their families at home.
Anyhow, here is the poem:
Be still –
In fair Glencomeragh
where mighty oaks
from tiny acorns grow.
Majestic trees
Whose silent roots
Nourish with sap
The life of branch and shoot.
Be still – where willows droop
to kiss their image
in a shady pool
and water lilies
raise their heads
to glimpse the playful petals
on a dappled bed.
Be still –
where mountain streams
cascading from the heights
glint gold and silver,
as the rising sun,
lights up their daybreak dance
and with a sunkist blessing
sends them on their way
to dance their mirthful dance.
Be still –
where pond on pond
pour out their waters
in a joyful bond.
And passing pilgrims
on their earthbound way
atop a footbridge
are inspired to pray
Be still –
where standing stones
rise stately from the earth,
statue-like and solid
as the rocks
that gave them birth.
Keeping vigil night
and morn
firm ‘gainst sun and wind and storm.
Be still-
Praise God
For lordly oak
For drooping willow
For stately standing stones
For dappled ponds
For blessed abundance.
Be still,
in fair Glencomeragh.
For the heart of God
is beating all around.
Séamus Sweeney 