Plain in the city

A plain Quaker folk singer with a Juris Doctorate in his back pocket, salt in his blood, and a set of currach oars in the closet, Ulleann Pipes under his arm, guitar on his back, Anglo Irish baggage, wandering through New York City ... in constant amaze. Statement of Faithfulness. As a member of the Quaker Bloggers Ad Hoc Committee I affirm that I will be faithful to the Book of Discipline of my Meeting 15th Street Monthly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends.

Thursday, May 19, 2005


When each street holds memories of friends now gone away,
each second ticks by, in the interminable day
each moment is measured by condemnation and loss,
I know well the dark valley only the strongest may cross

Friends turn away and there seems no new start,
I know well that point at which hearts break apart,
And now as luck fails, and fate seems to conspire
Friends point to the saints and demand, "do not tire"
But dreams blasted away and comfort plowed under
There is a point a too common soul breaks asunder


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