The Moment Of Truth Poem by Liam ó Comáin

Huddled around your bed
Did we appear looming
Like figures in a dream
As you departed?

Was father waiting there
For you?

Was there a loss of colour
Especially of those you loved
Of spring and summer hues
Autumn leaves and winter berries?
Or sound like the wind down
Our stack during winters past
When you talked about the fairies
And the dark shadows of night?

Have you travelled far or as quick
As your morning walk to St. Mary’s?
Where each stone knew your step
And every window carried a reflection.

How do you look, now,
Or are you as you were?
Or at the moment of truth
Did all end- is there no more?