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Sonny lives on a farm on a wide open space
Where you can take off your shoes, stay out of the race
Lay down your head by a sweet river bed
Sonny always remembers the words mama said


Sonny, don’t go away, I’m here all alone
Your daddy’s a sailor, never comes home
Nights are so long, the silence goes on
I’m feelin’ so tired, and not all that strong

Sonny carries a load, though he’s barely a man
There’s not much to do, but he does what he can
He sits by his window in his room on the stairs
And he’s watchin’ the waves washin’ soft on the pier.

It’s a long way to town, Sonny’s never been there.
But he goes to the highway and he stands and he stares.
Mail comes at four and the mailman is old
But he brings Sonny dreams filled with silver and gold

Sonny’s dreams can’t be real, they’re just stories he’s read.
There’s just stars in his eyes, they’re just dreams in his head.
But he sees all the places that he’d like to roam.
But he hears mama’s voice and it’s callin’ him home

Many years have rolled on, Sonny’s old and alone
His daddy’s a sailor, never came home
Sometimes he wonders what his life might have been
But still from the grave, mama’s voice haunts his dreams
Sonny, don’t go away, I’m here all alone

Your daddy’s a sailor, he never comes home
And the nights are so long and the silence goes on
I’m feelin’ so tired, and not all that strong
Sonny, don’t go away

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Joan of Arc

I know this now. Every man gives his life for what he believes. Every woman gives her life for what she believes. Sometimes people believe in little or nothing yet they give their lives to that little or nothing. One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. And then it is gone. But to sacrifice what you are and live without belief, that's more terrible than dying.--

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November 2015



On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

John O'Donohue, Echoes of Memory