In a floor pared back and laid bare the texture of history is seen in mellow…
This is a place where you do want to leave the footprint of your soul, to…
Kindle within us, O God, the fire of your mercy. Make mercy spark within each heart…
On Waking At Baggot St (To The Sound of the Rill*) Open your eyes to…
It is one of several in this room where she died and has travelled a long…
God of the immense universe, God of each human heart, We thank You and we praise…
Kneel here and what do you look at but the cross that she not only looked…
I am caught by surprise at how small this garment, how worn and fragile. It brings…
Did it bring you comfort this china, the little cup worn at the rim and translucent…
Silence seems the right word for the place, sitting in the deep silence. And then old…
You have entered the Dublin vernacular: not just the nun at the Herbert St. bus stop,…
Praise God for you William and Catherine Callaghan, who led that other Catherine to many years…
In the polite parlance, common usage of the day, you are designated ‘Spinster’ on this deed…
If life is a voyage then this tomb is a ship, like Gallarus oratory in the…
Could one look about the place and not make for you, Clare Augustine Moore, one small…
It is said of Brigid’s successors at Kildare that they kept her fire alight unabating a…
(POEMS FROM THE FIRST CONVENT OF MERCY) May the blessings of this house- A house Imagined…
Catch the No.10 Bus along Baggot St. and alight at the Herbert St. stop. You will…
Vessels of clay, one a real sea-shaped fluted shell; one gourd-like, smoothly black; one carries the…
The last time I was there It rained all day in Dublin, and nothing soft about…
The warmth of a late summer Dublin evening reaches across acres of Georgian chimneypots and flows…
Somehow it claims us, this rectangle of land, insisting its kinship. Its felicity is not in…