Irish Fire

My grandmother called it
Irish fire, said it raged
through my father
hotter than Beli Mawr’s bum.
She was long dead
when it finally flared
fiercer than he could contain.
The embers of his eyes
scorched childhood’s
last leaves to ash,
left them smoldering.

Ryan Stone

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26 thoughts on “Irish Fire”

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  3. This is both stunning and painful. I love your analogies but don’t like it when tempers or losing control are chalked up as something someone was just born with. I grew up with an abusive father and my grandmother (and mother) often excused his behavior as if he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t until I was a parent myself that I realized his lack of control was nothing more than a lack of self-discipline and being indulgent with his own feelings at someone else’s expense… like throwing an adult temper tantrum! But it’s all in the distant past now, and thankfully has made me a better parent. Sorry to go off like this! lol Hope you are well, Ryan! 🙂

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    1. Please don’t apologise, Kelly. It sounds like we have plenty in common. I’m sorry to hear of the childhood you endured but I agree with you 100% – lessons come to us in many different forms. I had a lot of anger towards him for many years but I also consider myself very lucky – though the learning was far from pleasant, he has taught me to value my children above everything else and to be a devoted and loving dad. While I don’t forgive him, I’m grateful for the lessons I learned at his hand and for giving me the ability to take so much joy from raising my boys in a safe and nurturing home. Thank you for taking the time to share such personal thoughts 🙂

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  5. Wow Ryan as soon I read your poem I knew! These words “The embers of his eyes scorched childhood’s” . Sorry to read that you had such experience during your childhood it is very sad. I am sure that you are the most wonderful dad for your children and that they are very proud of you! Much love to you! ❤

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