See Poem by Angela Alaimo O'Donnell
"Mine, O thou lord of life, send my roots rain."
--Gerard Manley Hopkins
Walking these grounds
I nearly hear you
in the finch-feather-fall,
Under rain gray sky,
"a soft day," the natives would say,
you lie in strange earth
poet among the dead and dumb.
I wander cinder paths
and find you far
from the splendor of Parnell’s rock,
neat crosses of decent Dubliners.
Yet you are not alone,
a name engraved on a single stone
inscribed with scores of others,
a mass of priestly brothers.
A few Latin syllables
claim your space for eternity.
Beneath these grieving yews
you’ve taken root.
Withered now to ash
beyond this brief burning
refined past reckoning
even your bones sing.
About this event: An evening of conversation and poetry
with Prof. Angela ALAIMO O’DONNELL, Poet and Associate Director of the Curran Center for American Catholic Studies at Fordham University, and Ms. Concetta PILSNER, English Language Arts Instructor, Cardinal Spellman High School, Bronx, NY
Presented by Crossroads Cultural Center, the American Bible Society, and the Curran Center for American Catholic Studies
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