“Beannacht”
On the day when
The weight deadens
On your shoulders
And you stumble,
May the clay dance
To balance you.
And when your eyes
Freeze behind
The grey window
And the ghost of loss
Gets into you,
May a flock of colours,
Indigo, red, green
And azure blue,
Come to awaken in you
A meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
In the currach of thought
And a stain of ocean
Blackens beneath you,
May there come across the waters
A path of yellow moonlight
To bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
May the clarity of light be yours,
May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
Wind work these words
Of love around you,
An invisible cloak
To mind your life.
John O’Donohue, an Irish poet, theologian, philosopher and author, passed away in 2008 at the age of 58.
“Beannacht” is the Irish word for “blessing,” but it can also mean goodbye, which is fitting. One would offer a “beannacht” to a loved one as they headed out the door. Our “Bon voyage,” and “Safe travels” pale in comparison to this farewell, but they carry the same sentiment. Unlike our current understanding of a “blessing” as a gift bestowed by God on some and not on others, this is the more ancient practice of offering a “blessing” as a prayer and a sending forth. I’m sorry we’ve lost that tradition, but grateful O’Donohue reclaimed it.
Like any good poet, he uses images, taken from the reality of his daily life and that of his readers, one for each stanza. For whatever befalls you, O’Donohue paints a picture of something in the natural world arising as a corrective to it: clay earth dancing, bright colors flying, yellow moonlight leading. Who wouldn’t feel safer in the world with these hopes wrapped around you? And he rewrites the Irish blessing so many of us are familiar with: “May the road rise up to meet you/ May the wind always be at your back… “, so we can hear anew how the power of the natural world is always at hand to help us on our journey.
It is all beautiful to me, but of course, the end is my favorite part. The true magic of any blessing is the love with which it is given and the open-heartedness with which it is received. Without love, they are empty words; with love, every goodbye is a blessing and every hello, a reunion of hearts.
I have a thing for Irish poets, especially their lilting, lyrical voices, so all the Irish poets I include this month will include a link to the poets reading their poems. I highly encourage a listen! You can listen to John here.
ALISON KIRKPATRICK 