The Mountain

The photo is taken from close to my home across the bay and into the Wicklow mountains. One of the mountains shown has been climbed by a fellow blipper and her family. I have been captivated, enthralled and mesmerized by the first person I choose to follow on Blipfoto. I feel a sense of bond as we share a common sense of loss, amongst other things. I am always pleasantly surprised by her ability to concisely paint a picture of how her heart and soul resonates with her loss and the effect on her children.... Her consummate ability to share her feelings and to bond on such a personal level with so many, without meaningless or superfluous rhetoric.
Having heard her encapsulate her family life some months ago I was reminded of a song I had heard way back but unfortunately knew neither the singer or song title.....but it was hunger that required feeding... Eventually I found it and managed, I think, to get all the lyrics....
It could have been written for Fluffikens, Bryan, Emily and Jack..... In a sense it was.........just saying

The Beacon (Johnny Duhan)

When we saw the white beacon near the top of the hill
The children stopped their fighting and went suddenly still
And before we brought the engine to a stop
They said please let’s climb that mountain to the top.

We parked the car by the old abbey and found a narrow path
Winding up the hillside so we followed that
We met people coming down with smiling faces
Whose bright eyes revealed they’d been to higher places.

Then the children grew more daring and went climbing on ahead
Soon we couldn’t see them so we listened hard instead
And while angels started calling through the bracken
Put our minds at rest so our pace didn’t slacken.

Over stumps, stones and moulden boulders, over rock ledges and shelves
We struggled on and upwards and rose above ourselves
And we weren’t even wearing heavy boots
Through our soles we could feel real living roots.

And we thought of the first pilgrims who forged that narrow track
Up that rugged hill face with a beacon on their backs
As we strained over the last ridge to the summit
We wondered how they ever could have done it.

‘Till standing there before us as high above the rocky mass
We found the silent answer in the figure on the cross
And our breathless children looking on were saying
It’s so clear up here which sounded just like praying.