Séamas Carraher was born in Dublin, Ireland in 1956. He lives on the Ballyogan estate, in south County Dublin, Ireland, at present.
a lament for danny henke
born, august 12, 1982 - died, july 12, 2002
this note came in our door 4000 miles away, a note like a charles bukowski poem (grim without the humour) at 3am all the way from Iowa with night still spread like a funeral over Ballyogan. And this is the knife sliced it open. Sliced the night open. Left the corpse stripped bare. See only emptiness and terrible stars inside. This is a lament, Danny. A lament for you.
Everyone’s digging their own holes
in the dark
in this world
where the stars don’t seem to shine.
Listen, listen quietly: “summer’s gone and all the flowers are dying...” This is another poem for the dead. All the dead. All our secrets, when nothing makes sense. Not swimming like a fish into that soundless sea, not sailing on sharp wings out beyond. Not when “suicide is not an outcome of the past but a collapse of the future…” (Charles Haldeman, 18 December 1979). Not now, Danny, when all that’s left is nothing, which isn’t much to look at.
“But come ye back when summer's in the meadow...”
...still there are stars, there’s stars and light and they shine and shine and shine. They send out messages across unbelievable distances. And when you fall and no one’s able to break your fall, not catch you nor hold you, O sweet Jesus, there’s nothing only sleep and silence, only our desperate promises...only thin blades of light taking you home. Only these secret wings, Danny, all sharpened and pared:
Now, this last lost lament.
Just for You.