A child brought up by nuns!
God help her!
My catholic school was brilliant
All lay teachers there
A warm and happy place
I lived without a care
But I know what she is getting at
When celibacy runs cold
And black-robed priests and nuns
Like making sure you’re told
Those first years of school
Until eleven years old
Are foundations stones of life
A story always told
For Hilary a nightmare
A misery to recall
No wonder Catholics get short shrift
Mother Malachy – your call!
Her memories of catholic school
And then clerical child abuse
Enough to settle Hilary’s mind
RCs are no use
Life is always personal
Life is what we see
What you do to the least of these
That you do to me
Brian Fahy
24 September 2022
Erris Poetry 