1966 and I nineteen
Robed in black
Clerical gaberdene
Came to see my uncle
Uncle Tim
On his deathbed
Fond memories of him
Lovely gentle man as I recall
Strong Cork accent
Kindness most of all
Granted audience
I sat upon his bed
He talked to me
Don’t remember all we said
But I do remember this
And now recall
He spoke of the Rosminian Brothers
Of their brutality
It was like listening to a confession
Not his sins but theirs
Their love of corporal punishment
Alive then in the air
And being Tim
No anger in his voice
No vitriol
Just plain and honest truth
That’s why I remember it
Unexpected revelation
A memory he shared
From out his youthful station
He died a few days later
Died too soon
I went on my way
Seminary doom
And then today
Reading F O’Toole
About the Christian Brothers
Oh so cruel…
I remembered uncle Tim
How kind he was
And how we talked awhile
How my black garb had triggered memories
And Tim confessed their sins for them
Setting records straight
Before departing earthly life
To be welcomed at the gate
Brian Fahy
16 February 2022
Erris Poetry 