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While taking my afternoon stroll yesterday and taking my usual coffee and danish, I mused on how blessed I am in my old age to be at peace with myself and the world. I was reminded of that lovely poem about peace by Desmond Egan who lives in Athgarvan, my native village in Kildare. May I share it with you?

Just to go for a walk out the road
Just that
under the deep trees
which whisper of peaceDesmond Egan

To break the bread of words
with someone passing

Just that
four of us round a pram
and baby fingers asleep

Just to join the harmony
the fields the blue
everyday hills
the puddles of daylight and

you might hear a pheasant
echo through the woods

or plover may waver by
as the evening poises
with a blackbird
on its table of hedge
Just that
and here and there a gate
a bungalow's bright window
the smell of woodsmoke of livesEgan poems
Just that

but Sweet Christ that
is more than most of mankind can afford
with the globe still plaited in its own
crown of thorns
too many starving eyes
too many ancient children
squatting among flies
too many stockpiles of fear
too many dog jails too many generals
too many under torture by the impotent
screaming into the air we breathe

too many dreams stuck in money jams
too many mountains of butter selfishness
too many poor drowning in the streets
too many shantytowns on the outskirts of life
too many of us not sure what we want
so that we try to feed a habit for everything
until the ego puppets the militaries

mirror our own warring face

too little peace.

Listen to him read the poem himself:


that is a wonderful poem.

my father, who i think is a little older than you, has lately reached peace after a fairly tumultuous life (starting at latest as a ww2 refugee). it's lovely and i only wish he could have done earlier, and enjoyed more of his life -- but better late than never!
Very powerful and very much to my own way of thinking.

Thank you for sharing! :o)
Yes. Thanks for the poem.
Just that.