On Good Friday, when news of the death of Kyra McKee broke I set aside the book I was reading and turned to a small book of poems by Pádraig Ó Tuama. I had first heard an interview with Pádraig on the podcast On Being and had been incredibly moved by what he had to say about his own story and the story of his work in [the]north[ern][of]ireland with the Corrymeela community. The Corrymeela community works to bring reconciliation and healing between north and south, catholic and protestant.
In the podcast he read this poem and it has echoed in me in so many situations personal and communal where we face pain and injustice and memory.
[the]north[ern][of]ireland
It is both a dignity and
a difficulty
to live between these
names,
perceiving politics
in the syntax of
the state.
And at the end of the day,
the reality is
that whether we
change
or whether we stay
the same
these question will
remain.
Who are we
to be
with one
another?
and
How are we
to be
with one
another?
and
What to do
with all those memories
of all those funerals?
and
What about those present
whose past was blasted
far beyond their future?
I wake.
You wake.
She wakes.
He wakes.
They wake.
We Wake
and take
this troubled beauty forward.
In the last week I have read these poems and meditations slowly and returned to points again and again. His description of the visit of Queen Elizabeth II to Belfast where she would meet Martin McGuinness, the Deputy First Minister of the Northern Ireland Assembly and member of Sinn Fein and shake his hand is very moving:
“Because shared space without human touching doesn’t amount to much.”
You can listen to interviews and see his talks on his website http://www.padraigotuama.com/ and everything is better heard with his lovely gentle voice but I’ll leave you with this: “The Irish word for shadow, scáth, is also the word for shelter. We live in the the shadow and we live in the shelter of each other.”
60 Before 60 