A good friend of mine started writing a book about the struggles and tragedies of growing up in Northern Ireland in the 1960′s, 70′s and 80s… I have been assisting her in small ways. Her life’s journey and the heart ache and suffering that has been the experience of so many in that small magic country effected me deeply… I have written the poem below for her book…. it tries to voice the waste… and the horror we humans are capable of around the world, when we feel justified.
Cliff

Hear Danu Cry
My children of Ireland hear my plea
Learn to forgive and set yourselves free
My beautiful daughters my handsome sons
Learn poetry and music dont carry guns
To conquer why pick up a knife?
Learn to listen and, to avoid strife
So much blood spilt through the years
Flowing in the streets mixed with mothers tears
Artists and painters, singers aplenty
Such beautiful souls are lost to eternity
Why cant you all stay clear of strife?
Understanding and love it is the meaning of life
My beautiful descendents children of Tuatha De Danann
My favourites ever since time begun
Get caught up not in the interests of man
Learn to live in harmony with the land
Life can offer you so much more
Than to kill my children in the interests of war
Hear your mothers mournful cries
Bourn by the winds wailing good-byes
In futile despair I watch so sadly
Not learning the lessons you need to so badly
For far too many children have died
And far too many mothers have cried
Please listen as your goddess cries
Graveyards will keep filling till you open your eyes
True gods care not to whom you pray
True gods care not how much you pay
We are all living lifes sweet sweet journey
Learning to live in peace and love for all eternity
Cliff