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Sorry For Your Troubles
One of the most engaging voices contemporary spirituality in is that of the Irish poet, Pádraig O’Tuama. This second poetry collection arises out of a decade of his hearing stories of people who have lived through personal and political conflict in Northern Ireland, the Middle East and other places of conflict. These poems tell stories of individuals who have lived through their loves and losses, their hope and generosity. One poem, ‘Shaking hands’ was written when Pádraig witnessed the historic handshake between Queen Elizabeth II and Martin McGuinness, who has since used the poem publicly. The phrase ‘Sorry for your troubles’ is used all over Ireland. It comes directly from an Irish phrase, yet Irish has no word for ‘bereavement’ - the word used is ‘troiblóid’. So the phrase would be better translated ‘Sorry for your bereavements’. With this in mind, this new book speaks evocatively about a time when thousands of people lost their lives and many thousands more lived through the searing pain of grief.
79 pages, Paperback
First published July 26, 2013
55 people are currently reading
944 people want to read
About the author
Pádraig Ó Tuama
27 books439 followersPádraig Ó Tuama’s poetry and prose centre around themes of language, power, conflict and religion. His work has won acclaim in circles of poetry, politics, psychotherapy and conflict analysis. His formal qualifications (PhD, MTh and BA) cover creative writing, literary criticism and theology. Alongside this, he pursued vocational training in conflict analysis, specialising in groupwork.
His published work is in the fields of poetry, anthology, essay, memoir, theology and conflict. A new volume of poetry — Kitchen Hymns — is forthcoming from CHEERIO in mid 2024.
Profiled in The New Yorker, Pádraig’s poems have been featured in Poetry Ireland Review, Academy of American Poets, Harvard Review, New England Review, Raidió Teilifís Éireann’s Poem of the Week, and the Kenyon Review.
Pádraig has told stories at The Moth, has been featured on NPR’s All Things Considered, has presented programmes on poetry and language for BBC Radio 4; and has extended interviews with On Being, with Kim Hill on Radio NZ, and Soul Search on Radio National (Australia). In addition, he has interviewed poets and public figures including former President of Ireland Mary McAleese, Hanif Abdurraqib, The Edge, Sarah Perry, Joy Harjo, Billy Collins and Martin Hayes.
His published work is in the fields of poetry, anthology, essay, memoir, theology and conflict. A new volume of poetry — Kitchen Hymns — is forthcoming from CHEERIO in mid 2024.
Profiled in The New Yorker, Pádraig’s poems have been featured in Poetry Ireland Review, Academy of American Poets, Harvard Review, New England Review, Raidió Teilifís Éireann’s Poem of the Week, and the Kenyon Review.
Pádraig has told stories at The Moth, has been featured on NPR’s All Things Considered, has presented programmes on poetry and language for BBC Radio 4; and has extended interviews with On Being, with Kim Hill on Radio NZ, and Soul Search on Radio National (Australia). In addition, he has interviewed poets and public figures including former President of Ireland Mary McAleese, Hanif Abdurraqib, The Edge, Sarah Perry, Joy Harjo, Billy Collins and Martin Hayes.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews
April 7, 2017
I saw Pádraig Ó Tuama speak last night, and purchased two books of his poetry. This collection is largely the result of his work with the Corrymeela Community in Northern Ireland, working with reconciliation through storytelling and conversation. Some of the poems use the words he heard from others, while some are on related topics.
Many of his poems rhyme, which is not always easy on the page, but the way he reads them, it comes across more like a chant or a prayer. Some phrases are repeated to give them a chance to really be heard. I recommend a visiting his website to see/hear some of them in performance.
One of the best known is Shaking Hands, capturing the moment when Queen Elizabeth II and Martin McGuinness, Sinn Féin’s deputy first minister, met and shook hands. It seems like a simple thing, but the English monarch had not made a state visit to Ireland in 100 years.
My personal favorite is Ikon, a five-part poem that was composed to accompany an art exhibit.
iii
"a priest
prepares his teaching
opens up his teaching books and
casts his looks toward heaven.
all the while, apocalypse is
looming, like vessels booming underneath his skin..."
iv
"...a breeze of harsh reality
is the thing that blew and
changed my tune,
and I present you now with failing
love amidst the ruin of my truthing."
This is part of my ongoing reading for 2017 National Poetry Month!
Many of his poems rhyme, which is not always easy on the page, but the way he reads them, it comes across more like a chant or a prayer. Some phrases are repeated to give them a chance to really be heard. I recommend a visiting his website to see/hear some of them in performance.
One of the best known is Shaking Hands, capturing the moment when Queen Elizabeth II and Martin McGuinness, Sinn Féin’s deputy first minister, met and shook hands. It seems like a simple thing, but the English monarch had not made a state visit to Ireland in 100 years.
My personal favorite is Ikon, a five-part poem that was composed to accompany an art exhibit.
iii
"a priest
prepares his teaching
opens up his teaching books and
casts his looks toward heaven.
all the while, apocalypse is
looming, like vessels booming underneath his skin..."
iv
"...a breeze of harsh reality
is the thing that blew and
changed my tune,
and I present you now with failing
love amidst the ruin of my truthing."
This is part of my ongoing reading for 2017 National Poetry Month!
August 20, 2017
This is a book of lovely and powerful poetry. Not long before I was heading out on a trip to Belfast and Derry, I heard Ó Tuama interviewed on Krista Tippett's "On Being" podcast, and I had to hear more. (He's a charmer and a sage.). His poetry is of the North of Ireland -- and in his poems, folk come to life. The poems speak of hard things -- but with love and even hope. Here is but a snippet of one:
"I learnt to count to five:
one, two, three, four, five.
But these days, I’ve been counting lives,
so I count
one life
one life
one life
one life
Because each time is the first time that that life has been taken."
"I learnt to count to five:
one, two, three, four, five.
But these days, I’ve been counting lives,
so I count
one life
one life
one life
one life
Because each time is the first time that that life has been taken."
February 22, 2021
Padraig O Tuama fan club let's gather here pls. I hear his cutie lil accent echo in my ears from his Poetry Unbound podcast as he introduces himself and what poetry means to him. This book of poems was beautiful at attempting to put words to grief. In the preface he writes, "Many of the poems in this book were written as responses to hearing the stories of people who lived through the troubles. The poem titles have spaces between each letter as a way of indicating the importance of silence, listening, grief and the things beyond words." I was reminded of the power words have and their capability to add empathy, but their inability to capture it all. I saw the vast difference between English words and Irish syntax as the specific word for bereavement is lost in Irish context. In English, the word 'bereave' means to deprive of, to despoil, to seize or rob. The Irish way of saying bereavement is triobloid, which essentially means troubled. To be bereaved is to be troubled by grief.
I learned a lot about The Troubles in Northern Ireland that lasted for 30 yrs and took me to Google more history (wild stuff).
I also loved that in one of his poems he quote John O Donohue whomst we also adore. S/O to great poets recognizing great poets. I was so refreshed by the honesty and and rawness of grief in the midst of all the loss Northern Ireland recognized in this time.
POTB (that's poem of the book, to you):
"...We are woman
We are man
we are just one human
we know life and death
and life-in-death is barely worth the living.
So we stand holding hands with hope
seeking wisdom and seeking meaning,
exposing what we're feeling
is the anchoring of argument
in the shared ground of our hope.
We can find our sanity at
the table of our talking.
We can shape our future
if we keep on with our walking.
We can walk forever if we listen to our stories.
We can tell our stories
if our stories find a home."
I learned a lot about The Troubles in Northern Ireland that lasted for 30 yrs and took me to Google more history (wild stuff).
I also loved that in one of his poems he quote John O Donohue whomst we also adore. S/O to great poets recognizing great poets. I was so refreshed by the honesty and and rawness of grief in the midst of all the loss Northern Ireland recognized in this time.
POTB (that's poem of the book, to you):
"...We are woman
We are man
we are just one human
we know life and death
and life-in-death is barely worth the living.
So we stand holding hands with hope
seeking wisdom and seeking meaning,
exposing what we're feeling
is the anchoring of argument
in the shared ground of our hope.
We can find our sanity at
the table of our talking.
We can shape our future
if we keep on with our walking.
We can walk forever if we listen to our stories.
We can tell our stories
if our stories find a home."
September 18, 2022
Pádraig Ó Tuama is steeped in the Irish bardic poetic tradition of Seamus Heaney, John O' Donohue, and W.B. Yeats. This is a poignant little volume of poetry that moved me deeply. My favorite poem from this book is called The Facts of Life, which is posted below. I highly recommend it.
"That you were born
and you will die.
That you will sometimes love enough
and sometimes not.
That you will lie
if only to yourself.
That you will get tired.
That you will learn most from the situations
you did not choose.
That there will be some things that move you
more than you can say.
That you will live
that you must be loved.
That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of
your attention.
That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg
of two people who once were strangers
and may well still be.
That life isn’t fair.
That life is sometimes good
and sometimes better than good.
That life is often not so good.
That life is real
and if you can survive it, well,
survive it well
with love
and art
and meaning given
where meaning’s scarce.
That you will learn to live with regret.
That you will learn to live with respect.
That the structures that constrict you
may not be permanently constricting.
That you will probably be okay.
That you must accept change
before you die
but you will die anyway.
So you might as well live
and you might as well love.
You might as well love.
You might as well love."
"That you were born
and you will die.
That you will sometimes love enough
and sometimes not.
That you will lie
if only to yourself.
That you will get tired.
That you will learn most from the situations
you did not choose.
That there will be some things that move you
more than you can say.
That you will live
that you must be loved.
That you will avoid questions most urgently in need of
your attention.
That you began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg
of two people who once were strangers
and may well still be.
That life isn’t fair.
That life is sometimes good
and sometimes better than good.
That life is often not so good.
That life is real
and if you can survive it, well,
survive it well
with love
and art
and meaning given
where meaning’s scarce.
That you will learn to live with regret.
That you will learn to live with respect.
That the structures that constrict you
may not be permanently constricting.
That you will probably be okay.
That you must accept change
before you die
but you will die anyway.
So you might as well live
and you might as well love.
You might as well love.
You might as well love."
June 18, 2021
Such a powerful collection of personal storytelling through poetry and prose. Highlights include ‘Bury the Hatchet’, ‘Postcards to the Centre’, and ‘Shaking Hands’.
From ‘Babel’:
“We can find our sanity at
The table of our talking.
We can shape our future
If we keep on with our walking.
We can walk forever if we listen to our stories.
We can tell our stories
If our stories find a home.”
From ‘Babel’:
“We can find our sanity at
The table of our talking.
We can shape our future
If we keep on with our walking.
We can walk forever if we listen to our stories.
We can tell our stories
If our stories find a home.”
June 11, 2020
'The Troubles', in Ireland is a reference to a 30(+) year war that ravaged the nation,
These poems speak about the Troubles in a way that takes the reader deep into the hearts and minds of the afflicted.
The poetry is excellent and I find it very timely now to have read it, given the protests and violence happening around the world.
There's a common thread running from The Troubles to the fight for equal rights.
These poems speak about the Troubles in a way that takes the reader deep into the hearts and minds of the afflicted.
The poetry is excellent and I find it very timely now to have read it, given the protests and violence happening around the world.
There's a common thread running from The Troubles to the fight for equal rights.
May 1, 2018
Beautiful and electrified poems drawn from the stories of Northern Irish people (Catholic, Protestant, human) living in the aftermath of the Troubles. O Tuama cuts to the heart of things with one charged observation after another: "You began as the fusion of a sperm and an egg / of two people who once were strangers / and may well still be." There are open spaces for grief and aching, yet the steady beat of life pulses throughout.
February 9, 2021
Every poem is wonderful. Inspired and written about the Troubles in Northern Ireland, I found them all relatable, as we all grieve and reconcile at some point in our lives. Some were particularly relevant at this time in American history. The ones that resonated with me most this time were “Once Upon a Timebomb,” “Shaking Hands,” and “The Facts of Life.”
December 31, 2018
I've been reading this book over and over this year. It's beautiful and poignant. It has had a place on my bedside table all year for dabbling into--this is a place of honour for books; they usually only stay for a short while ... but this one! Worth diving into over and over again.
December 26, 2023
This is a heartfelt, beautiful collection of poetry. I love and admire Padraig Ó Tuama, his work at Corrymeela in Ireland and his work with reconciliation in general.
“There isn’t a word for this [bereavement] in the Irish language. Our way of saying bereavement is triblóid, which, anglicized, is troubled. To be bereaved is to be troubled by grief. We say ‘I’m sorry for your troubles’,” (5).
From “Bury the Hatchet” which reads more like a reflection-
“Corrymeela began as a place of peace in a a place of deepening division. Ray Davey, its founder, had been an army chaplain during the second world war and was captured and held in Dresden where he witnessed the Allied Forces’ bombing of that very same city. He could no longer think of sides.” (35).
“The folks of Corrymeela have long believed that human encounter between people who believe and think different things can have a transformative effect” (36).
“There isn’t a word for this [bereavement] in the Irish language. Our way of saying bereavement is triblóid, which, anglicized, is troubled. To be bereaved is to be troubled by grief. We say ‘I’m sorry for your troubles’,” (5).
From “Bury the Hatchet” which reads more like a reflection-
“Corrymeela began as a place of peace in a a place of deepening division. Ray Davey, its founder, had been an army chaplain during the second world war and was captured and held in Dresden where he witnessed the Allied Forces’ bombing of that very same city. He could no longer think of sides.” (35).
“The folks of Corrymeela have long believed that human encounter between people who believe and think different things can have a transformative effect” (36).
February 11, 2025
so much to say, hard to pick favorites. maybe in the image of god is my favorite. but true to his writing, the best part is the commentary on the Irish language. i could eat his poems for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
December 26, 2025
not sure how long I’ve been working through this collection! I’m a huge fan of Pádraig’s work and this collection opened a door to Irish culture/struggle that I hadn’t know anything about before
December 28, 2020
These poems by Northern Irishman Padraig O Tuama reflects on the struggles and traumatic legacy of "the Troubles" a period of conflict between the British and citizens of Northern Ireland. While I realized this was a reflection on the Irish struggle for justice, I could not help but see the parallels to oppressed groups in the U.S. It was a powerful read that pulled me back again and again.
One clue - in the back of the book, the poet shares the occasions for writing many of the poems which I found very helpful for rea\ding them in the context of the events on which they reflect.
One clue - in the back of the book, the poet shares the occasions for writing many of the poems which I found very helpful for rea\ding them in the context of the events on which they reflect.
October 21, 2025
Beautiful, powerful, heartbreaking poetry. I can’t wait to read more of this author.
Read
June 18, 2025What about those present
whose past was blasted
far beyond their
future?
....
Does it matter what you call something if that something is awful? The answer is yes. But the answer is also that words are never the final word.
....
‘There’s many as weren’t killed that still died,’ she said. And she was right.
....
We’re from the same stock, you and I,
we know what it’s like to mine
for our dignity in caves
we never were shown.
....
And we both know the stilling,
the chilling, the feeling of years of
‘don’t talk about that till you’re old’.
....
Now we’re issuing an invitation.
Drink our tears
and we’ll drink yours.
Touch our fears
and we’ll touch yours.
....
g o t o h e l l
he is called to hell, this man
he is called to glory.
he knows well those twisted ways
and those who’ve lost their story.
he is called to clay, this man
he is called to yearning.
he has heard of hidden streams
that heal those tired of burning.
he’s searching out those raised in hell.
he wants to know the things they know.
he believes in dreamland.
where the raggéd people go.
he is called to quiet now.
he is called to silence.
squat down on the breaking ground
with those who’ve swallowed violence.
he is called to anguished thoughts.
he is called to flowers
to find in hell’s own lonely fury
that which no flame devours.
i saw him on the midway path
i saw he carried two things only.
on his trip to hell, this man,
he is called to story.
....
His words were the breath covering the land that was unused.
....
What made him sing his song? Nobody seemed to be watching him. Who did he think he was singing to? Who did he think he was singing for?
There is no action without an equal but opposite reaction.
....
There are secrets hanging hidden from the ceiling
but the scene is closed and curtained up
the scene is not for speaking or for grieving.
But I’ve been breaking secrets
I’ve been telling tales
I shouldn’t tell.
I’ve been staring hell straight in the face
and I am making noises in a place
that’s meant for silence.
I’ve been wrestling peace in a place of quiet conflict
because I was bearing weights
far too heavy for my shoulders.
And I was young, I was not very old,
so, I’ve been telling secrets
that I shouldn’t have been told.
....
The folks of Corrymeela have long believed that human encounter between people who believe and
think different things can have a transformative effect. Transformative because it is more coura-
geous to have an argument with a person in a room than never entering that room in the first place.
Transformative because when you can be in a place of beauty it might be that your mind can be
open to new and creative possibilities, and because to lighten the shadow of our land, we must all
speak of our own shadows. Transformative because when you have an ethic that challenges scape-
goating, you may be able to open up a way of reflecting on your own shortcomings. Transformative
because they believe in the power of the shared table and the poured cup of tea. Morning meetings
start late in Corrymeela, because they know that there are some conversations that can be only take
place in the dark, by firelight.
....
The Corrymeela Community believes that the quality of the telling of a story will be related to the
quality of the listening of the people. There is no shortcut to human encounter.
....
Another time when I was travelling, I met Ali Abu Awaad from the Parents’ Circle, a forum for be-
reaved Israeli and Palestinian family members. It was Good Friday and I had hoped to pray but
couldn’t find the concentration. Ali, chain smoking, spoke in his third language with dignity. He
told stories of humanity and generosity. He told a story of his dead brother and a story about find-
ing friends in unexpected places. After that, I didn’t feel the need to pray, as Ali had done it for me. I felt the need to tell him this, to tell him that his telling had sacramentalised this holy hallowed hollow day. But when I tried to tell him this, looking out over the hills of Beit Sahour, I just cried and couldn’t stop. He put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, ‘I’m not a very good Muslim,’ and I laughed and said, ‘I’m not a very good Catholic.’ We stood and looked over the beloved hills.
....
T h i s i s t h e w o r d o f t h e L o r d
Some learnt the bible-books
like they were ‘a, b, c’
while some learnt communion prayers
like they were ‘do-re-mi’.
Some learnt with fuzzy-felt
old and two-dimensional
others learnt by living lives
bold and unconventional.
Some learnt by negligence
and falling on their knees
and scraping skin and feeling guilt
and going where they pleased.
Some learnt by ignorance
some learnt by prayer
many learnt by surviving hate
under priestly stares.
Some have heard of difference
and Judas Maccabees.
Others heard that Mary was
differently conceived.
Some caressed those skin-thin pages
early every morning.
Others learnt of sin and death
and hell and early warnings.
Some learnt Corinthians
others made confession.
Both crossed the green peacegate
seeking out new lessons.
....
And the question is
can I see my face
when I face my own history
from where you’ve faced it?
And the question is
can we create the space that holds us
and moulds us in our bodies
so that we embody
who and what
we can be
with one other?
....
The people learned to cope
so they spoke little of the things that
they had hoped for.
....
every word becomes
meaningless when over
explained, the
real meaning fades
grows dim
illuminating darkness in the
nook of disappointment. oh god, we are
groaning for release.
....
here are my two hands,
empty, but for strands of hope
remaining from the days when I
easily imagined I could hold the
truth. a breeze of harsh reality
is the thing that blew and
changed my tune,
and I present you now with failing
love amidst the ruin of my truthing.
....
In the echo of a man
the text tells a voice
and the voice tells a story
so the story sounds like god.
....
And dignity’s not a game
that can be won or lost,
because we know this truth:
winners always define glory
and losers always suffer loss.
Rather, we are us.
Not because of anything
just because, just because
just because everything
less than this
demeans us.
Anything less than this
depletes us.
whose past was blasted
far beyond their
future?
....
Does it matter what you call something if that something is awful? The answer is yes. But the answer is also that words are never the final word.
....
‘There’s many as weren’t killed that still died,’ she said. And she was right.
....
We’re from the same stock, you and I,
we know what it’s like to mine
for our dignity in caves
we never were shown.
....
And we both know the stilling,
the chilling, the feeling of years of
‘don’t talk about that till you’re old’.
....
Now we’re issuing an invitation.
Drink our tears
and we’ll drink yours.
Touch our fears
and we’ll touch yours.
....
g o t o h e l l
he is called to hell, this man
he is called to glory.
he knows well those twisted ways
and those who’ve lost their story.
he is called to clay, this man
he is called to yearning.
he has heard of hidden streams
that heal those tired of burning.
he’s searching out those raised in hell.
he wants to know the things they know.
he believes in dreamland.
where the raggéd people go.
he is called to quiet now.
he is called to silence.
squat down on the breaking ground
with those who’ve swallowed violence.
he is called to anguished thoughts.
he is called to flowers
to find in hell’s own lonely fury
that which no flame devours.
i saw him on the midway path
i saw he carried two things only.
on his trip to hell, this man,
he is called to story.
....
His words were the breath covering the land that was unused.
....
What made him sing his song? Nobody seemed to be watching him. Who did he think he was singing to? Who did he think he was singing for?
There is no action without an equal but opposite reaction.
....
There are secrets hanging hidden from the ceiling
but the scene is closed and curtained up
the scene is not for speaking or for grieving.
But I’ve been breaking secrets
I’ve been telling tales
I shouldn’t tell.
I’ve been staring hell straight in the face
and I am making noises in a place
that’s meant for silence.
I’ve been wrestling peace in a place of quiet conflict
because I was bearing weights
far too heavy for my shoulders.
And I was young, I was not very old,
so, I’ve been telling secrets
that I shouldn’t have been told.
....
The folks of Corrymeela have long believed that human encounter between people who believe and
think different things can have a transformative effect. Transformative because it is more coura-
geous to have an argument with a person in a room than never entering that room in the first place.
Transformative because when you can be in a place of beauty it might be that your mind can be
open to new and creative possibilities, and because to lighten the shadow of our land, we must all
speak of our own shadows. Transformative because when you have an ethic that challenges scape-
goating, you may be able to open up a way of reflecting on your own shortcomings. Transformative
because they believe in the power of the shared table and the poured cup of tea. Morning meetings
start late in Corrymeela, because they know that there are some conversations that can be only take
place in the dark, by firelight.
....
The Corrymeela Community believes that the quality of the telling of a story will be related to the
quality of the listening of the people. There is no shortcut to human encounter.
....
Another time when I was travelling, I met Ali Abu Awaad from the Parents’ Circle, a forum for be-
reaved Israeli and Palestinian family members. It was Good Friday and I had hoped to pray but
couldn’t find the concentration. Ali, chain smoking, spoke in his third language with dignity. He
told stories of humanity and generosity. He told a story of his dead brother and a story about find-
ing friends in unexpected places. After that, I didn’t feel the need to pray, as Ali had done it for me. I felt the need to tell him this, to tell him that his telling had sacramentalised this holy hallowed hollow day. But when I tried to tell him this, looking out over the hills of Beit Sahour, I just cried and couldn’t stop. He put his hand on my shoulder and whispered, ‘I’m not a very good Muslim,’ and I laughed and said, ‘I’m not a very good Catholic.’ We stood and looked over the beloved hills.
....
T h i s i s t h e w o r d o f t h e L o r d
Some learnt the bible-books
like they were ‘a, b, c’
while some learnt communion prayers
like they were ‘do-re-mi’.
Some learnt with fuzzy-felt
old and two-dimensional
others learnt by living lives
bold and unconventional.
Some learnt by negligence
and falling on their knees
and scraping skin and feeling guilt
and going where they pleased.
Some learnt by ignorance
some learnt by prayer
many learnt by surviving hate
under priestly stares.
Some have heard of difference
and Judas Maccabees.
Others heard that Mary was
differently conceived.
Some caressed those skin-thin pages
early every morning.
Others learnt of sin and death
and hell and early warnings.
Some learnt Corinthians
others made confession.
Both crossed the green peacegate
seeking out new lessons.
....
And the question is
can I see my face
when I face my own history
from where you’ve faced it?
And the question is
can we create the space that holds us
and moulds us in our bodies
so that we embody
who and what
we can be
with one other?
....
The people learned to cope
so they spoke little of the things that
they had hoped for.
....
every word becomes
meaningless when over
explained, the
real meaning fades
grows dim
illuminating darkness in the
nook of disappointment. oh god, we are
groaning for release.
....
here are my two hands,
empty, but for strands of hope
remaining from the days when I
easily imagined I could hold the
truth. a breeze of harsh reality
is the thing that blew and
changed my tune,
and I present you now with failing
love amidst the ruin of my truthing.
....
In the echo of a man
the text tells a voice
and the voice tells a story
so the story sounds like god.
....
And dignity’s not a game
that can be won or lost,
because we know this truth:
winners always define glory
and losers always suffer loss.
Rather, we are us.
Not because of anything
just because, just because
just because everything
less than this
demeans us.
Anything less than this
depletes us.
September 5, 2023
"Sorry for your Troubles" by Pádraig Ó Tuama is one of those books you cannot really avoid in Irish Studies, Peace Studies, and Troubles Studies circles - another similar book is The Milkman. It is almost universally praised, but beyond the prose sections and the poem "After the War" it didn't do much for me. I can't really get to the bottom of why, but a lot of it didn't click.
I did appreciate the case being made that the use of Troubles comes from a linguistic and cultural place rather than a minimising euphemism - not that that argument will ever have impact on those making jokes about the conflict being called the Troubles...
Look, I'm sure I'm just the odd one out here, and most people might enjoy this. It's not very long, so it isn't a large commitment either. As I said, the best poem was After the War, so at least that is very worth reading even if I wasn't as taken with the rest.
I did appreciate the case being made that the use of Troubles comes from a linguistic and cultural place rather than a minimising euphemism - not that that argument will ever have impact on those making jokes about the conflict being called the Troubles...
Look, I'm sure I'm just the odd one out here, and most people might enjoy this. It's not very long, so it isn't a large commitment either. As I said, the best poem was After the War, so at least that is very worth reading even if I wasn't as taken with the rest.
April 4, 2020
My introduction to this poet was via podcast interviews and readings of other poets' works, specifically the programs On Being and Poetry Unbound. I'm accustomed, therefore, to the mellifluous sound of voice and his soothing Irish cadence. What a delight it is to be able to hear that voice in my mind as I read his own poetry. These poems are wonderful, and I would imagine they have a specific resonance for those most affected by the period of violence known as The Troubles in Ireland and Northern Ireland. As an outsider to that land and era, I found these poems to be fascinating, informational, and even at times educational, though always incredibly moving. I am so pleased this poet's work was introduced to my life.
August 30, 2024
I actually read this a few times, it’s the kind of collection to read again and again, and I have sent copies to friends. The conflicts of humanity are endless, but so are the poems for peace. In the preface, he writes of “the importance of silence, listening, grief, and the things beyond words.” Troubles, bereaving, language…and a simple handshake form the backdrop for this collection of poems, words for our hearts and souls in times of conflicts and division. I cannot say anything that describes them better than just reading them for yourself.
April 8, 2022
These rang true in the emotion for me, but many of them seemed more emotion than craft, and others a type of spoken-word poetry that is not what I am looking for -- a lot of very clever language that made interesting sounds, but it did not get to my heart or open my eyes the way that I like poetry to do. There were a few that did all the things I want, and I am not sorry I read it, but I am not eager to seek out more by this author.
September 4, 2019
This little collection is beautiful and so powerful. O Tuama knows the power of words and uses language here to communicate deep grief and hope. These poems are based on his work with the Corrymeela community in Northern Ireland and include stories from people who have lived through personal and political conflicts. Full of truth and hope, I will return to these poems over and over again.
August 22, 2022
Ok, you know what, I *did* finish this book. (Are poetry books every read to finish?) Listen, I know Padraig is a genius at peace or w/e but this book just didn’t resonate with me at this time in my life.
Idk it just felt like “words we say once we’ve laid our weapons down and survey all the harm we’re ashamed of having done” whereas america is like “still sharpening the pitchforks!!”
Idk it just felt like “words we say once we’ve laid our weapons down and survey all the harm we’re ashamed of having done” whereas america is like “still sharpening the pitchforks!!”
June 16, 2023
Beautifully composed poems and essays about a very, very difficult time in the history of Ireland. At once the words convey hope and depth of sorrow. Will there ever be a time when there will not be such a subject to write about? I can only pray.
March 20, 2017
Really beautiful!
June 20, 2017
Beautiful.
March 9, 2019
Feel into my present during a thought for the day by the headmaster!
A brilliant, challenging little collection of poems, well worth reading, remembering and keeping.
A brilliant, challenging little collection of poems, well worth reading, remembering and keeping.
April 28, 2019
This one is staying on my night table so it will be in easy reach when I want to go back and re-read parts of it.
May 21, 2020
Beautiful, moving, and so very real.
December 6, 2020
Absolutely beautiful. “The Facts of Life” will be one I’ll return to often for the remainder of this year, and many to come.
March 15, 2021
A voice
crying out
in the wilderness.
May we hear it.
crying out
in the wilderness.
May we hear it.
January 2, 2022
Just not to my taste — I’d have preferred more of the lovely prose.
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