PALMERSTOWN - AN ANCIENT PLACE

My sister Nessa would have been 50 today; no doubt there would have been a party. She was an artist, set designer, historian, writer and mother, and she loved a party.

The image above shows her local history book about our hometown, Palmerstown in County Dublin. It was published posthumously in 2003, two years after Nessa's death, and we had a launch in Lucan Library. My parents, with the help of artist, historian and conservationist extraordinaire Peter Pearson, made sure the book made it to print because Nessa ran out of time. It is a well-researched, beautifully written book.

If you would like to buy a copy - €10 including P&P - send me your request for number of copies, plus name and address, to nuala AT nualanichonchuir DOT com. Anywhere in the world!

*

While I'm at it, another sister, Aoife O'Connor, edited the magnificent Small Lives, which can be purchased here.

Three writers (so far!) in one family. What can I say? We have bookish parents :)

FIRST PUBLIC READING IN MY HOMETOWN

I have my first public reading in my hometown in Palmerstown, Dublin, on next Wednesday the 25th June. I get to share a panel with my sister Aoife O'Connor (editor of Small Lives) and, believe it or not, also with my deceased sister, Nessa O'Connor (author of Palmerstown: An Ancient Place). Well, 'share' in the sense that Nessa's book will be honoured. Anyway, I am 11 years a-publishing so this feels rather overdue...

IN MEMORY OF NESSA

Kingfisher Sister

In the halcyon hours of winter solstice,

you loosened your grip

for the slip towards death.

You had no mate to hoist you on his back

and fly over the flat-calm sea,

mourning you with his cries.

But in your last storm, a thaisce, never fear,

our sorrow saw you safely

into the blue, in a blaze of red.

(For Nessa who died the 23rd December 2001.)

POEM FOR MY SISTER

A poem in memory of my sister Nessa on her anniversary.

Kingfisher Sister

In the halcyonic hours of winter solstice,

you loosened your grip

for the slip towards death.

You had no mate to hoist you on his back

and fly over the flat-calm sea,

mourning you with his cries.

But in your last storm, a thaisce, never fear,

our sorrow saw you safely

into the blue, in a blaze of red.
 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Image from Outdoor Photo.)