The Darkest Deed
Dark winter’s night among swaying pines, the banshee wails in ceaseless lament.
In a humble home young woman’s blood has flowed and a child nearby seeks mothers caress.
Brave father is struggling down winding road, seeking help from neighbors’ near.
Gate is sealed and no welcome there, so stagger on brave man of steel and find a friend behind opening door, your strength expires as you sink to floor.
A priest and friend they rush at speed to hilltop home and inside the scene that meets their eye brings out a cry from priestly lips, as the man of God slumps against bloodstained door.
For on that night near Christmas day, no peaceful spirit had walked that way, for hearts of hate have done their deed, but time lets justice have its sway.
(Dedicated to the memory of James and Mary Soraghan, murdered at Corlislea, Co. Cavan, December 1923.)