This poem is taken from PN Review 24, Volume 8 Number 4, March - April 1982.
Old MemoryOnce when I was young I bicycled
From Cork to Bantry Bay. I was in Ireland,
Young, vigorous, in love with life and Ireland.
I took a room for the night, was ushered
Up cavernous steps to a high, small chamber
Without light but a candle in the dark.
I saw the bleeding heart of Jesus, the only
Sight. Fear seized me in this foreign place.
...
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