1916

One hundred years gone now, a number of years, imaginings of the patriots of Ireland, who had more bravery and guts than you or I have today, seeping into the memory of particular individuals, attempting to bring them to the personal heart, in the year of 2016. And the stories of the heroes are legend, as they were and are. Connolly and Pearse, and chalk and cheese, and the 1913 lockout, the precursor, the injustice, the prompt, the instigation. And love at the root of things, the thorn of the rose, and killing of the Irish rose, when nobody was showing interest in the real way. I walk past the GPO about a thousand times a day, on Arbour Hill I have prayed, I have wondered what has happened to the dead, outside even, of the Fenian dead. And there are names, a litany by this time, names to produce, to add to the memory, my family and my respect, and that stilled feeling in the moment of quiet contemplation, attempting to understand, in the year of one hundred years later.