The Old Church in Knockananna
Author: Seamus Kavanagh

The Old Church in Knockananna
Author: Seamus Kavanagh

Seamus reflects on the centuries of piety that surrounds the old church where he lives

For two hundred years its stood,
Among the Wicklow hills,
The source of people's hopes,
The cure for many ills.
It was built by Fr Blanchfield,
With faith and a hundred pound,
And it is fitting that there he rests,
Inside the church he found.
The church bell was the clarion call,
Never silent through the years,
The harbinger of happiness
Sometimes the source of tears.
In silence now it stands,
But close your eyes and you will hear,
Carried on the wings of time,
Voices raised in prayer.
Along meandering Mass paths
People came to pray,
It was Faith that gave them strength
And helped them on their way.
It was there to offer solace
To the men of " Ninety Eight"
While prayers were said in Easter Week
For those who met their fate.
It survived man's inhumanity,
The grief of two world wars
And on a July evening,
Saw man walk among the stars.
But its doors they remain closed now,
Locking in the memories there,
Of those who knelt throughout the years,
And talked to the Lord in prayer.
Though they are long gone now,
They haven't gone too far,
For they've found rest and sleep in peace,
'Neath a headstone in the yard.