Oh God:

The splits and the shades and violence of the waves like the turning of Winter to Spring.

 

Oh God:

The love turned to hate amidst bitterness and charms between brothers and arms whispering sweet words of rebellion.

 

Oh God:

Like Brugha and Collins the old and the young could not be unsprung with each as brave and as brainless as a bull.

 

Oh God:

Diatribes such as these would force an angel to her knees without solemn genuflection.

 

A chairde:

I am Ireland while you are mindless and insane shooting for your own gain and against our people.

 

A chairde:

I am the martyr on the cross and everything you have lost and that Ireland will gain.

 

Oh God I give my life to thee.

 

~ G McK