Praise be the hares on Oyster <br />As they curl on the stone beach <br />And look across at Rosses! <br /> <br />Do they take that shape to look good- <br />A soul looking toward heaven <br />But not ready to go yet? <br /> <br />When I take the binoculars and see the blur of the hare <br />Seperating itself from the blur of the stones <br />The disturbance eases. <br /> <br />The hare that always turns back a moment <br />To look steadfastly into the sights <br />Of the rifle that will kill him <br /> <br />Bounces forward, looks back into my eyes, <br />Bounces forward, looks into my daughter's eyes, <br />And settles comfortable, <br /> <br />Comforting me in my turn. <br />Praise be the hares on Oyster Island! <br />Put there by huntsmen. Loved by poets. <br /> <br />And gone at last beyond the reach of dogs. <br />They eat with the sheep and the guinea hens, <br />And run short distances between bouts of contemplation. <br /> <br />May they have long lives, <br />The hares that afford us a break <br />From the language that would explain them. <br /> <br />May they be shot straight through the heart <br />By a woman in a boat, and then wake to hear <br />The bells of the halyards. <br /> <br />That nature allowed me <br />A moment to look back the way I've come <br />And feel, this time, I'm safe for a while. <br /> <br />To be like the hares that sit out there beyond smell, <br />Beyond touch, secure on their pads as they sit <br />Up and remember! <br /> <br />May the hares increase! The inspiration <br />They give me prosper. That I learn to make of isolation <br />And fear a grand thing. <br /> <br />Let the hare sit! Let the hare sit on the moon! <br />And may we all be shot straight through the heart <br />By a woman in a boat.<br /><br />Dermot Healy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hares-on-oyster-island/
