Still the days lunge at her
Wielding all the ferocity of that stricken day,
But, of Sinead, my mind goes
To the gravity of her hesitations
As she climbed that tortured stair,
And to how she knelt to her friend-
The strident fears still screaming in her brain-
And kneeling, cradled her friend to her death.
From within the terror,
In utter determination,
She raised from out of savagery.
A gift made in gentleness:
A fraught but honourable courtesy
That in rising, rising,
Continues wondrously to ascend,
Quite uncontainable,
Filled entirely with light.