By John O’Donohue
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.
 
























