On Not Writing To Ellen

Poem By James O'Connell

I did not write for years, and now
It’s too late as the earth covers
A brown box containing a body
That awaits the resurrection
Yet long before that last rising
I can feel a sense of presence
That is richer than my silence
And closer than the unkind sea
That separates us who are
The literate unwriting Irish.

Comments about On Not Writing To Ellen

Few experiences are sadder than when death intervenes to take away an opportunity to communicate or to meet. The poet expresses simply and poignantly love and a sense of loss.

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Other poems of O'CONNELL

On God And No Grand Design

My choice was not easy to make,
I could have made them unfree
And not let them pluck forbidden fruits.
But they would have lost a golden spark,