Soliloquy to Sinead

 

 I will go down to the beach today,

down to the sea on those craggy rocks

to stare the waves down,

dip my toes in ice cold pacific blue water,

to dream for a while and remember you.

I will walk alone across the chilly rocks,

and stare at a silent ocean that shivers and roils,

at the time and tide that is waiting for me.

I will find the darkest rock to perch on and hold your life in my arms,

as memories of you gather around me, 

singing to me in time with the gentle waves lapping at my feet,

while the pining seagulls drift on the arctic winds of winter overhead,

I imagine the winds blowing down from Ireland today, 

I don't know if that's even true.

But this is an ode, and we're Irish,

so we can say whatever we want to.

🍀💛💚💘🍀

I will stand by the sea today and watch...

the melding colours of aqua depths, swirl,

unfettered and free, as I write something new in my head,

to take home to the table where I will sit,

and think about the books and songs I have yet to write,

the stories and poems I will send out into a world,

that might not want me,

I'll play the music that you made and shared,

that you sang into our our hearts,

even here, down under, in wee Aotearoa.

I want to say that it doesn't matter what the world says about me,

or what those bastards said about you, 

and every other woman with a truth and a voice,

and God help us, when we were given a microphone.

I will use all those rejection letters to light my fires on winter nights,

as my dog snores on the couch,

and the last glass and a half of cabernet something or other, 

stares at me from a glowering bottle,

before I tip it's last drop into my smeary tumbler of misspent joy;

the one that started off as fun,

but later will become the headache of elusive fame, 

in the morning after,

when I stare at all those clever lines from the night before.

                 🍀💛💚💘🍀

Yet sleep still comes to me,

and like stars in the night sky, I twinkle myself into a big bed of dreaminess,

 my solitary, comfortable nest full of my own compassion,

and the dreamy wanderings, 

that I share with imaginary, wordy bedfellows, 

who are buried beneath my sweaty sheets, next to the dog.

I tuck myself in and tell myself,

I will go back to the sea tomorrow and gather more

stories and songs to bring home;

to bind up into my beautiful life that is not for sale,

or to become pickings for a carnal, snarling, unbelieving world.

I will carry my legacy home from the beach,

and leave it on the shelf with my memories,

the framed photos of everyone I ever lost,

and the souls I managed to keep.

                       🍀💛💚💘🍀

Then later on when I am gone, just like you, Sinead,

and every other woman that ever had a truth and a voice,

and if we were lucky, a microphone.

all the world will read or listen to the words we left behind

and they will all say, "she was pretty good, aye? 

No wonder she was famous."

RIP Sinead - now you can, "sleep with a clear conscience, you can sleep in peace".