The Shadow of Light
I came to Ireland to be alone again in some very powerful places... to realize again the deep Celtic heart of this land... of my heart and the heart of my father(s). I came to Ireland to heal a broken heart and face down the "beasts" of my own shadow and the shadow of my father(s). It was a powerful experience facing them both at the same time alone in the land of their origin... in the dark, heavy, melancholy and unremitting rain and dampness of this proud yet so deeply wounded place. Driven by my personal inquisition and the genetic beasts of my inner narrative, I found myself at the rectory door of a
Glendalough priest and the conversation of a lifetime. I then began to understand the darkness... its power to transform things and invite the light... no, its power to demand of the light its presence... demand the light TO BE. Light emerges from the darkness... always overcomes yet contains the darkness within itself. This is the blood-truth of the Celtic soul. This is the blood-truth of life.
P. Donovan
Dublin, 2007
And now I watch my father die a slow death. This proud, loving man
who once held me so gently in his arms and in his memory, is now
locked away in some inaccessible corner of a deteriorating brain
tormented by his own beasts and the shadow of his fathers. He no
longer sees me, knows me, and I can't reach him, touch him, save
him any longer. I can't help the one man who so loved me he would
give his life for me. I can only watch helplessly as that meaningful
life and all it contained, my father, disintegrates away in front of me.
Another perspective follows and complements:
ReplyDeleteBrother
Oh! Brother,
my only brother.
Will you leave us all behind?
I fear you will go gently quietly
and I, I want you to rage-
Rage as you did in your young man days,
with power and anger and loud bravado.
I want you still
to be fearless, without hesitation without mumbling and stumbling.
Run swiftly again
Like that dash in ’61,
Run out the door and go to the dance for
your life has always been a dance of joy.
And dance is the first art.
It was you who gave me one more innocent Christmas in ’58.
It was you who felt the heat of Tet in ’68.
I have known you my whole life,
this entire life
I cannot bear this loss
this way
not tomorrow and certainly not this day.
Time was, we placed our spades unto the earth,
planted our roots deeply and watered well as our father taught.
Daffodils in Spring
Roses in June
Apples in Autumn
Abundance of life and joy and love.
If now it happens that your mind can no longer articulate,
then let your heart reflect that
You have known the Beautiful;
that you have seen the Good.
For if you truly cease to be,
then you never were and I cannot believe that.
So, my brother,
take this with you, keep this with you, bear this eternally:
What you forget,
I will remember;
When words escape you,
I will find them;
When darkness falls,
I will carry your light.
c df cicora 2010
My father always raged against "that dark night." His heart and soul, Celtic as it was, raged with life. Now, in his vascular decline into dementia, he still rages. Although he often doesn't make sense... he still rages.
ReplyDeleteDan, I believe it is the soul that rages and not the mind. Your brother WILL rage "as he did in his young man days."
A healing blessing (and heartfelt empathy) to you and all others who share in this fluid dance between celebration in the dear one who lives and the deep sadness over such loss in either sensibility, patience or connection with what is. I believe our presence and love are never lost or useless. Thank you Dr. Donovan for sharing this. The part of me that houses dread and discomfort is quieter now that I have read and offered this blessing. I shall pay him a visit tonight! ~Susan (Graduate Student at Seattle U.)
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