Patsy O'Hara

Caitlin o' Dochartaigh

A poem for Patsy
As the anniversary of Patsy's death again approaches, I add this poem I wrote back in 1981,
His face was that of one long old,
Whose time ran short, whose blood was cold,
Eyes half-blind that tried to see,
The dying man was twenty-three.
Body wasted to skin, to bone,
He died -as all must die - alone,
For it matters not who else is near
We face alone that final fear.
Face his he did with spirit brave,
His life for his beliefs he gave,
His life for Ireland down he lay,
Jesus, Mary, it seemed the only way.

Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy, written 1981,
mother of Patrick (Padraig) Murphy, age 9, named in honor of both my grandfather, Pat Neely, and Patsy O'Hara.

Patsy O'Hara