Blessed Longing

by Goethe, translated by John O’Donohue Tell no-one else, only the wise,For the crowd will sneer at once.I wish to praise what is fully alive,What longs to flame towards death. When the calm enfolds the love-nightsThat created you, where you have createdA feeling from the Unknown steals over youWhile the tranquil candle burns. You remainContinue reading “Blessed Longing”

Every Day

Do not waste a breakdown She says Through pages that never Called to me before For weeks I have been breaking down Transforming Painfully Into something new Being both born And the one giving birth Being both killed And the one delivering death I am Changing And Mourning This life I haven’t Started yet ButContinue reading “Every Day”

Irish Wake

I know tomorrow,when the world grows steadyand quiet –we’ll close the curtains,mute the sounds of modern life,and stand for a momenthands clasped,hearing the rasp ofbroken footsteps at middayThen, the coffin will travel,with flowers growing oldin the air conditioning ofa herse, with cracked leather seats. For now, we stand round, and drink and eat around aContinue reading “Irish Wake”

Twin Touch

I touched you brieflyTonightA whisperSoul to soulWhich reached youIn time forYou toMove on. Twins once, twins forever. I was asked to remember youAnd bubbling joy came to my mindFingers outreachedThough I never knew youIn this time Twins once, twins forever. I love that you protected meIn some spiritual wayThat I can’t put words toBut theContinue reading “Twin Touch”

Fish & Chips & God

*Trigger warning, this story has content that may be unsuitable for those under 18. *A short-story that I never did get to submit to a Bloomsbury competition. This piece, like everything on LughLana, is protected under Copyright law. The plasticine ward smelled like oldness and sickness. It inspired that peculiar sense of contempt that oneContinue reading “Fish & Chips & God”

#13 healing poetry; I bought Jasmine when I heard that you had died

If I arise tomorrow, And forget that your soul Left this place, a long time ago, Would the wind stop beating at windows? They are streaked with rain and pollen clusters, fidgeting bugs and dusty frames, I don’t think I have a picture of us. If I arose tomorrow, If the sunlight lifted in particles,Continue reading “#13 healing poetry; I bought Jasmine when I heard that you had died”