MATRIARCH

She married Dan at sixteen, he was forty two.
The 'oul fella' scarcely worked for competition.
Poverty forged, she carried the family like Atlas.
Slaving for black and tans, feeding her popes
      litter on conscience scraps.
"The officers were 'dacent' men but the the others
     were scum." Work gypsies, Canada sentenced them for bloods
      imperfections. - "We only employ locals."
Washed back on defeats bitter tide, her faith was
      an unquenchable flame.
"Trust in the lord son and he'll always take care of
      you."
She fainted on year on the flag proud march, but
      refused to quit.
She loved a guinness, rarely smoked but chewed
     tobacco to glass grinned approval.
Her children broke her heart in the act of dying or
      for the want it, cursed with the Irish disease,
    most penniless.
Australia took both her lives.
After my wedding she slipped into hip smashed
      senility.
Oblivious, speaking in tongues,
      save Irish songs she clung to with their lilting
     stubborn memories.
The pulse beats of a happier time and place.

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