It wasn't about green beer and paradesIt was about freedom and food and a dreamIt's what you do when all that you care about has to fit into a trunkAnd you pretend that you'll get back somedayThat you will see the hills of green and the lyric of Gaelic rhymeBut you know that you won'tAnd so you face your fears and let the tears flow until there aren't anymoreWhile you watch the homeland slip away and feel the rocking of the shipAnd it's not a cruise ship...it's cold and you wonder what you were thinkingand why you believed and all you have is your dream, your memoriesand your faith.
It wasn't like they said it would be on Elis IslandThe land of the free and the braveExcept that no one wants you hereand you didn't want to leave the ship where you buried one childand your husband had cholera and so they took him awayand all you have is a scrap of paper with the name of your husband's cousin who wrote about the promised land called South Dakota
There wasn't a parade that St Patrick's DayBut you did what they did at homeyou remembered the stories of all of those who had gone before youwho thought they couldn't make itAnd in the midst of searching for your husbandyou found a church and it's all still a fog how the priestsomehow knew your husband's cousin, but it happenedand you learned something that dayabout communityand the real meaning of Eucharistand the meaning of the four cloversthat you promised your mother you would always remember
NeverForgetTo Believe
And so you believeYou hold on to those four cloversand you refuse to let gothrough the hungerthe months in Chicagoironing shirts for the rich men at the Palmer Houseuntil you have enough for horsesbecause of the promise of the clover
NeverForgetTo Believe
No parades when you finally hitch up the wagonNo one wearing green Just the music of your heart that you singso that your kids will
NeverForgetTo Believe
and they will remember who they are and the land of greenand the hope that is our peopleThe promised land of South Dakotawasn't exactly like they told youbut you survived the winterwith enough to feed the babiesand a strong heart that would never forgetto remember the gift of St. Patrickand the four leaf cloverbecause you promised your mother that you would
NeverForgetToBelieve
NeverForgetToBelieve
~Bridget Bearss, RSCJ
Thanks, Mary Ann Lyons, Katie McKenna... and the women of the land that taught me to believe
