Dennis O’Driscoll did not get to see 2018; he died (suddenly) December 24, 2012.
From his obituary at The Guardian: “In the civil service you are assigned a grade. You know your status,” he told the Irish Times. “Whereas with poetry, you never retire and you never really know your grade – it will be assigned posthumously.”.
Wishing you all a happy St. Patrick’s Day.
May you not postpone until tomorrow, that which you can choose to do today.
May the road rise to meet you, today, and the rest of your ‘morrows.
And may good hope walk with you through everything.
-Christy
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn’t have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
* Thanks to reader Belkis for suggesting this piece as a favorite poem.
I thought it paired nicely with Glen Hansard’s “Song of Good Hope.”
And take your time babe It’s not as bad as it seems, you’ll be fine babe It’s just some rivers and streams in between You and where you wanna be And watch the signs now You’ll know what they mean, you’ll be fine now Just stay close to me and make good hope Walk with you through everything
Dennis O’Driscoll did not get to see 2018; he died December 24, 2012.
From his obituary by John Greening at The Guardian: “In the civil service you are assigned a grade. You know your status,” he told the Irish Times. “Whereas with poetry, you never retire and you never really know your grade – it will be assigned posthumously.”.
Wishing you all a happy St. Patrick’s Day. May you not postpone until tomorrow, that which you can choose to do today. And may the road rise to meet you, today, and the rest of your ‘morrows. -Christy
Even if a day feels too long, and you feel like you can’t wait another one and you’re slowly giving up on everything, love is gonna find you again Love is gonna find you, you’d better be ready then.
Well you’ve been kneeling in the dark for far too long, You’ve been waiting for that spark, but it hasn’t come, Well I’m calling to you please, get off the floor Love is gonna find you again. love is gonna find you, you’d better be ready then.
Tethered to a bird of sorrow, a voice that’s buried in the hollow you’ve given over to self deceiving, you’re prostrate bowed but not believing you’ve squandered more than you could borrow you’ve bet your joys on all tomorrows, for the hope of some returning while everything around you is burning.
Come on, we gotta get out, get out of this mess we’ve made and still for all our talk, we’re both so afraid. And will we leave this up to chance, like we do with everything? A good heart will find you again A good heart will find you, just be ready then.
Tethered to a bird of sorrow, a voice that’s buried in the hollow you’ve given over to self deceiving, you’re prostrate bowed but not believing you’ve squandered more than you could borrow you’ve bet your joys on all tomorrows, for the hope of some returning while everything around you is burning but I’m not leaving you here, I’m not leaving you here, I’m not leaving
I’m not leaving you here, I’m not leaving I’m not leaving you here
I’m hanging on, oh I’m hanging on, for what’s gonna come I’m hanging on, I’m hanging on Hanging on, hanging on, hanging on, hanging on hanging on, with the faithful, with the faithful I’m hanging on, for what’s gonna come, for what’s gonna come I’m hanging on, I’m hanging on, with the faithful
Words for the Year 