Shhhhh Erin Shhhhhhh
Sit quietly
Be good
Do this and that
Do what they say

They who claim
The only truth
Have had their way
Waged their war
Tarnished our day
And nighttime too
They took control
And left us broken
On the field
On the seas
In the sky
What’s that you say
About the fire
That burns
Within your hurt
And bleeding soul

Sit quietly
Be good
Do this and that
Do what they say

They had their way
They gave us war
We covered them
That Scarlet Dawn
Remember well
Those of us
Who did return
To hearth and home
Might well have died
Now bleeding souls
Are keeping score
Deep within
Steeling the hearts
Of our children
And our children’s children
For yet another
Hundred years.


As one descendent of a people who had left Ireland long before 1916 and watched from afar as violence overtook their motherland, I look at this planned hundred year celebration with mixed thoughts. On one hand I say yes, support the artists and scholars who want to tell the stories and heal the wounds that still fester to this day.

To market the commemoration of any violent event as a celebration, however, is an insult to those on all sides who suffered and died.


My poem above is one lost soul speaking to the land of her ancesters.
This soul aches over the terrible truth that war never seems to end. It gets carried from generation to generation and from country to country.


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