Letter from the grave to the People of Ireland
The old Fenian Plot
Glasnevin Cemetery
Finglas Road
Glasnevin
Dublin 11
A Chairde,
People of Ireland, one and all, all who live here from wherever you began, for all of you are Irish if you sleep within the bosom of Éiru. We all came from beyond the sea of Manannán once too.
I am beyond the veil, so near that I can see your breath yet far away in time. Here within these walls of glasnevin all our eyes are watching through the night what you do and what you don't. We are watching injustices happen all around you as you stay silent. Are you waiting orders from the captain, one more word for signal token? Hush and listen, it is time again for you to whistle out your marching tune, stand up now and rise with the goddess moon.
Those who listened to my words and rose up again and again to fight for all men and women, young and old, to be free are well known to you and me. Despite learning how the men with pikes had suffered they proclaimed a new and equal Ireland for you all. Their vision was true and just and should have been a guiding light for all to follow and it was for a time until greed and avarice displaced it.
I don't regret my words, I meant them, I don't regret a bit of my short life or what I stood for. I still believe in love, romance and freedom for us all. But you, my people, what do you believe in? What drives you forward if it is not justice for the poor and sick and trodden on? Do you not remember all who died before you to give you all of this? Is this web of lies and betrayal, brown envelopes and whispers in the corridors of power what we died and fought for? Do you believe those men in suits who bow their caps to masters in the banks and European Parliament? Hoorah me boys for Freedom, now you're shackled once again. Stand up and be together at the Rising of the Moon.
The cause of freedom and love for all is greater and more urgent now than ever, greater than when my neighbours died in famine or your ancestors died in workhouses. It is greater than when the hidden daughters and sons of Ireland died alone, in shame that wasn't theirs, within the walls of laundries and industrial schools, run by the new lords and ladies you replaced the others with. When I entrusted you to St. Patrick that was not what I imagined to behold.
The cause, for there always is a cause, is no longer just about our lady love this island, the cause is no longer at the old spot by the river, it is global now. If you want life to continue, children to be born and food for them to eat, if you don't want to hear the banshee's lonely croon echo loud through the land and waters, rise up and save our planet, now!
Be the blessed morning's light, be an example to the world as the Irish can and do and have done. That is your purpose here on mother earth. That is why you were entrusted with this land of saints and scholars, this magical place of hope and love. You do not own her, she owns you. There is no time, it is slipping away fast, species are dying by the day, babies are dying every minute, Mother Earth is writhing in pain and anguish. Get you ready quick and soon for we must stand together at the rising of the Moon.
I've twined the last leaf of my garland:
A lonely star shines in the sky,
And the heart of the poet is weary:
Oh Bright Eyes! Goodbye.
John Keegan Casey,
(Leo)
(Inspired by the life and work of John Keegan Casey (Leo), young Irish activist who died too young.)
By Ann Gerety Smyth, 2019
