The River

It’s here on the riverbank in the tall grass that sways in the wind,

And it’s friends who have been trampled by fishermen,

Rushing for a good spot to plant themselves for an hour or two.


The angler sits on this most precious of spots,

Calmly deciding what will attract the fish,

While soaking the summer sun on a most welcome face.


He sits, quietly, as the first line is cast,

Drifting down the river,

unphased by all around.


Anxious for the combination of tranquility and meaning,

Only provided by the movement of the river,

And the sound of water rushing over stones.


Life is good. Very good.


Journey into Hope

“And even inside yourself,

In these untrodden plains,

There is no road marked out …

‘You make the road by walking’…”



Mary Grant, Journey into Hope p. 105 (Belfast, Dublin and Ottawa 1980)

Galvin RSC, Dr Ellen (2013-11-18). A Mystic in Search of a Unifying Truth : Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.

All Is Sacred

Secular or Sacred, separate words,

Depicted as separate worlds.

But they are not.


The creator and created are as one,

Merely unnoticed or alternatively categorized,

Elements ready to become compounds,

In the unseen world of the spiritual.

He Is There

In the clatter of breakfast making,

He Is There.

In the cleaning waters running down my back,

He Is There.

In the morsels of food, breaking my fast,

He Is There.


Every waking moment, every sleeping one,

He Is There.


She Is

She is tall and lovely,

She is small and full of energy,

She is smart and fun,

She is hurt but strong,

She always recovers.


She is mother and protector,

She is loving and caring,

She is a fighter for what is right,

She is defender of those wronged.

She is beauty.


She is.