In the aftermath of the tragedy in Creeslough in 2022, a few people took to poetry writing. Through writing they were able to express how they felt about the tragedy and capture the feelings of the community.
Below are some poems written about the tragedy in 2022.
Music by Mark McGranaghan
Listen to music specially commissioned for the Donegal Person of year award 2022 to honour those who died in the tragedy.
Creeslough by Michael O’Connor
Dear Mary the news that I bring you is sad,
of a terrible accident that we just had.
Our friends and our neighbours were taken away,
by a blast in the village of Creeslough today.
Now nobody still knows just what was the cause,
that demolished the shop and apartments and all,
but the tragedy is that ten people are gone,
with the weight of this sadness, it’s hard to move on.
The whole population of Creeslough came round,
to help with the searching right there on the ground,
the Ambulance, Gardai and Fire Brigade,
worked all through the night for the people to save.
The farmers in tractors and lorries came too,
helped take away rubble and see what’s to do,
but with each passing hour, we could only pray,
for the poor souls we lost here in Creeslough today.
The search is now over, the people were found,
ten beautiful souls up to Heaven are bound.
There’s a torrent of water now making its way,
from the tears that were shed around Creeslough today.
Yet though the days pass on I still wonder why,
We lost all those people, I once again cry.
Yes a torrent of water is making its way,
from the tears that were shed around Creeslough today.
These things happen by Tommy Bonner
We hear that these things happen
In lands too far away
You shake your head and mutter
But have nothing more to say
We hear that these things happen
Over there across the pond
Of a young man marching into school
with daddy‘s loaded gun
We hear that these things happen
Of bombs that fall like rain
We offer food and refuge
But we can never feel their pain
We hear that these things happen
Folk succumb to winter freeze
Or perish on a hillside
Among some burning trees
We hear that these things happen
A village buried under mud
While another gets washed away
By an unexpected flood
We hear that these things happen
The ground, it swells and shakes
But it happens miles and miles away
So our hearts, they do not ache
We hear that these things happen
The press rolls into town
To report on rescue efforts
No one else dare make a sound
We hear that these things happen
Floral tributes stand in rows
A congregation of night lights
Exude a glow of hope
Of course these things, they happen
To those we’ll never know
But it hits you like a juggernaut
When it happens here at home
For These Darkest of Days by Priscilla Kee, Castlefinn
On any given day, we go about our lives,
A cloudy, rainy Friday, when life so cruelly throws its knives.
Doing the oh so typical, everyday little things,
These are when the unexpected, pain and suffering it brings.
A little town of Creeslough, going about their day,
When suddenly, those innocent, their lives just torn away.
We watch it all so helplessly, is there something we can do?,
While all those we call heroes, into action they all flew.
Everyone of us just praying, searching for a little hope,
And now we pray for their heartbreak, that they’ll find a way to cope.
We call upon the angels, to comfort those left behind,
We hear that times a healer, but this will never leave their mind.
A dark time for our county, hearts heavy, filled with tears,
Ten angels fly to heaven, loved ones wishing they were here.
We wait here for some answers, we kneel ourselves to pray,
We sit and think of Creeslough, lest we forget that day.
He Was There
A beautiful poem for Fr John Joe Duffy from Creeslough.
Church turned into frantic panic
Dust, debris and devastation
No need to call him
He was there
The shepherd’s flight to mind his flock
Hastily hurried to the side of the Mountain
With churning heart and spiritual guidance
He was there
Hours, days, nights and harrowing scenes
A week, the darkest of times
Heartbroken congregations floundered
He was there
Priestly power prevails
Within a pinnacle of destiny
A sacred space in solidarity
He was there
The man of substance
A priest in Creeslough
Fr John Joe Duffy
He was there
MD
No Words by Ronan Berry
Creeslough by Gearoid O’ Doinn
Even the hills cried.
While the land broke its heart and bade them goodbye.
As ten beautiful swans took to the sky,
In single formation spread wings and flew high.
Aye.
Even the hills cried.
Aye.
Even the hills cried.
And the tears that they shed made fast flowing streams.
As the swans took to flight and their beating wings gleamed,
And they bade their farewell to this land of the green.
Aye.
Even the hills cried.
Aye.
Even the hills cried.
As their floods of tears to the sea made their way,
And the beautiful swans crossed Sheephaven Bay.
Heading for Tír na nÓg far over the spray.
Aye,
Even the hills cried.
Aye,
Even the hills cried.
The sound of their keening was heard by the shore,
At pain of such grief that they ne’er known before.
The swans souls will be, recalled evermore.
And,
Till the end of time,
The hills cry.
The Day Creeslough Cried by Fionnuala Power
It was a perfectly ordinary day,
Men women and children toing and froing
Thinking of the weekend ahead.
No cause for concern.
Not knowing what if they forgot the milk
Or newspaper.
Diligent workers always with a smile,
Shelves stocked to the brim,
Pensions paid out, hair and tan done,
Diesel, petroleum or a sneaky cone.
It seemed uneventful as these days often do;
until of course they are not.
A sudden blast ripples loudly through the countryside,
Alarms arise as the emergency emerges
People with phones scramble for survival,
Shock and horror the like they have never seen before,
Priests and politicians speak on behalf of a community lost,
Life has been demolished, stolen, destroyed
We came together united.
The day Creeslough cried.
There will be tears and dark dark days.
Enveloped in sadness the community huddles,
Beautiful souls lost forever,
Senseless loss, we are distraught.
Be brave be strong and pray,
For this day shall never come again
As a nation we will never forget
The day Creeslough cried.
A Poem of Hope by Alan Cooke
Remember Me by Dorothy Hughes
If you would like to add a poem, please email: creesloughlife@gmail.com.