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hymns to swear by

by Pádraig Ó Tuama

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1.
God of watching, whose gaze I doubt and rally against both, but in which I nonetheless take refuge, despite my limited vision. Shelter me today, against the flitting nature of my own focus and bring me to the calm place in which to stand. And when I falter, which is likely, give me both the courage and the kindness to begin again with hope and coping. For you are the one whose watchfulness is steady. Amen.
2.
You’re a red rag waving to my sharp horns Horns that turn inward as I charge toward your warmth And your gift turns to a knife and it pierces through my skin I pour my blood out, feeling guilty, Small comfort for the place I’m in. I remember when I lifted my hands and sang songs of mercy I asked for blood when I was thirsty I asked for stones, and meals of boulders and you hid your face until I was older. Now the Irish side to my Irish hide has been screaming Sweet Jesus in my dreams Whipping where he pleases. I'll come and I wipe your tears away I hear you say I'll come and wipe your tears away I'll come and wipe your tears away Ah come and wipe my tears away now that I'm older.
3.
And I said to him Are there answers to all of this? And he said The answer is in a story and the story is being told. And I said But there is so much pain And he answered Pain will happen. Then I said Will I ever find meaning? And he said You will find meaning Where you give meaning. The answer is in story And the story isn’t finished. The question is not where but now there question’s never finished or exhausted and the answers in the asking not the answer the answer’s in the breathing of the question in the love of holding onto what was never whispered never seen but what we dreamed of in the morning then forgot while venus hid the answer’s in the living not the knowing the answer’s in the telling of the story in half forgotten memory and all unfinished stories the answer’s in the showing time of senses the answer’s in the question in the learning in the fading page of writing in the letter sent to lovers in the paying for the other the answer is the generous is the truthing the absolutely truthful anger and forgiving is the giving of what you don’t deserve it’s what I’ll serve because you’re hungry even though you may not know it the answer’s in the living and the dying in the trying for redemption on an empty hill of crosses it’s the shoring up of hope and the gathering of losses it’s the looking for companions in the hills and in the glens it’s the waking up and walking up and starting up again the answer’s in the living and the trying. And I said to the wise man, what is the answer to all this And he said the answer’s in the story and the story’s just unfolding.
4.
Maranatha 04:13
You are my strength and I am weak. Maranatha. I've given up sometimes when I've been tired. Does it move you? I've fucked it up so many times. Alleluia. I've found my home in Babylon. In exile.
5.
a reading from the book of exile chapter one there are no chapters a reading from the book of exile chapter two he has been moved beyond belief a reading from the book of exile chapter three and he is inching toward glory with only his own story on his back he has patched up holes that opened where his coverings have cracked and some shoes were never meant for hiking so he left them far behind there are simple things he needs on journeys such as these foodandloveanddrinkandwarmthandcomfort and a bag that’s small enough to carry all the failures and the idols that he’s picked up on the way there are some days he only moves an inch or two this is the pace of glory here in exile a reading from the book of exile chapter four there are some things too meaningful for talking and even feeling leaves us full of grief at all we touch and need and can never speak of. we are living lives that we can‘t state the name of we are loving things that we can never bear we attempt belief in things that we can not explain and we rest uneasy in this sometimesseemingcruelgame. and we rest with tension so beautiful its heartaching. a reading from the book of exile chapter five he has grown older here. the body speaks its own language and he has started listening a reading from the book of exile the unwritable chapter and the place of pain is the place of survival (and sometimes barely that) a reading from the book of exile The last chapter there is no ending. everything is here. (so pitch a tent that you can live in and find a friend to whom you’ll give in times of telling times of testing times of listening times of resting) there is no ending. everything is here.
6.
Yearn 03:54
Yearn I’ve sung songs of spring in the morning and in the evening time with flowers blooming and bushes burning offerings of love and bitter learning and I’ve sworn by heaven and darker places to find my way through these nighttime cages and I’ve come out, fighting angels, kissing demons chasing strangers I yearn for home. I sat for a golden afternoon up on Thomas Ryan’s balcony I watched the autumn sunlight and I smelt the breeze Sitting down so comfortably on an old and broken rocking chair I closed my eyes, I felt the earth and breathed. I yearn for home. I’ve heard that elves have ships on which to sail away across the morning’s waters to their grey havens, fair and far away from here. I wonder if all my longings, they could shape me out a ship of hopes to carry me on these seas of homeward yearning.
7.
Creed 01:31
I once was blind but now I can see I once was him, but now I’m me I once was cold, but now I’m not I used to fear hell, where the fire is hot I wanted to be straight, but the thing is I’m queer I-thought-I belonged there, but I belong here I once was wrong, because I thought I was right I thought that the darkess was the same as the night and thought that the light was consoling and beautiful all it asked was ‘be pure, and be right and be dutiful’ but light can be insipid and daytime can be vacuous and no cult is so crude as the cult of the miraculous I thought that walking on the water would be the end of it all and addiction to articulation was the start of my fall I fell into meaninglessness, I fell into sin I fell into darkness, and I felt caged in and I fell into the arms of something that was lurking in the corner, in the shadows, and it’s been slowly converting my methods and madness, into myth and new meaning my sagas and sadness given girth and given grieving. and now I believe in the god of the human the good and the glorious, the generous and moving. I once was blind, now I’m blinder still and inside my own nighttime, I am silent and still.
8.
A íosa teacht chugham, tá m’anam in uaigh Óg an ufás i mo chinn ach aosta i mo chroí. Cá bhfuil a solas dom spriod cá bhfuil neart is an troid idir ufás agus dolás? A íosa teacht chugham am not I the foolish one? I the loosing one? I the searching one for the lover of my soul. He’s gone but here always he is the Lord of my byways and has walked my paths my twisting, twisted roads, taking me with him. Oh Jesus come to me my soul is in a grave young the terror in my mind but old in my heart Where is the light of my spirit where is the strength and the fight between what’s good and what is awful oh Jesus come to me.
9.
Do you like the smell of tortured Jesus burning the snow? Do you like how his veins were pulsing underneath his ripped skin’s glow? Do you salivate and lick your lips swallowing your spit imagining the sweet meat taste from the barbeqing pit? Do you drink the drink and talk the talk inviting all your friends? To bask in resurrection scents and eat the flesh of all amends.
10.
This is not a liberal agenda Think about the people in the prisons in Uganda. These are bodies like yours, mine. Close your eyes, please close them Do not open them until you’ve breathed a little deepr Put the fingers of your one hand to the wrist of the other and keep your pulse a moment? Are you calm? Are you content in holding your own skin with your own safe and holy skin? Think about the people sleeping in the prison in Uganda. This is not a liberal agenda. These are people. not quite corpses… yet And it’s not about forgetting all your morals with some rationalist adjustment or some sad subjective judgment The Samaritan did not sin yet still was hated berated judged and deemed a lesser kind of human. Think about the people in Uganda. This is not some liberal agenda.
11.
Emmanuel 04:22
Emmanuel He sat at the table and bled I saw the colour of his blood it was red and green and purple for holiness purple for greed purple for preparation and purple for grief he is an advent coloured man this one He likes the sun behind the clouds he is in love with these grey days and grey ways and grey shades Bethlehem is turning out to be Not where I thought that it should be Bethlehem is burning we’re all hurling ourselves towards Jerusalem And we said “tell me about your last lover” and then we threw off private covers he said ‘I am coping still’ she said ‘I am broken still’ I said, ah sure, I was open right up until I was closed But I lied then when I spoke about my lover I lied that night, I should have spoken about another I was purple with solitude and purple with shame purple and full of regret I was purple with blame Ah, come oh come Emmanuel. And sat at the table and bled She had laid down in the bed that they’d made and she waited and when they made love they both knew it was cold so they stared into their darkness there and then, told their confession it was red and green and purple for sorrow it was purple for feeling it was purple because they’re beautiful and purple because they’re bleeding
12.
13.
Recessional 02:37

about

Review from Sound and Silence:

These are the facts:

“Pádraig Ó Tuama’s debut album “Hymns To Swear By” blends poetry, spoken word and song in an achingly beautiful way. Many of the poems and songs have been spoken and sung in the context of Ikon in Belfast. They mix prayer and longing and raging in mystical fashion. The album is stripped back with just voice or voice and guitar which somehow makes it all the more potent.”

And here is the truth:

I ache. I yearn. I am comforted. And spellbound.

This is quite unlike any one single thing I have heard before. Perhaps a 21st Century Celtic take on Damien Rice meets Bob Geldof meets John Michael Talbot, half the time sans guitar; but Pádraig Ó Tuama’s deeply incarnational “Irish hide” produces yet another “fruit of emergence”. In English and Gaelic, Hymns is at once a lament, a call to the deep, a protest and a critique.

In its raw, straight from the heart approach, he explores the sense of exile many of us carry around, as only a true poet can. For example, in a spoken piece called “Narrative Theology”, he proclaims

“The answer is in a story and the story is unfolding.”

And in “Readings from the book of exile”,

“There are some days he only moves an inch or two, this is the pace of glory, here in exile.”

This holding and comfort is one expression of the poet’s empathy. But so is protest, as “Intercession For Lesbian And Gay Ugandans” shows. The inverse power demonstrated by the powerless is never more evident. In “Creed”, he sings

“I wanted to be straight but the thing is I’m queer,
I thought I belonged there but I belong here.”

If you are a seeker, if you have been involved and no longer feel a sense of belonging, if you are disillusioned, if you are sick of the ubiquitous “Light”, let Ó Tuama’s shadowy, lilting cadences serenade you. And if you have failed, this collection is your balm. The sacred and profane brew that is “Maranatha” is no doubt a key to the album’s title.

Perhaps these kinds of syntheses between dualities is the very alchemy which produces the authenticity. I have heard few more integrated expressions of Incarnational spirituality than “Hymns To Swear By”.

Perhaps Ó Tuama’s Celtic heritage has allowed him to bypass our hackneyed Greco-Roman myths.

Perhaps his involvement in postmodern community, specifically Ikon (“Deep thanks to Pete the Heretic Rollins for years of encouragement and kindness”) has given him a fresh perspective.

Perhaps his embrace of the apophatic theological tradition has given him an appreciation for a fuller spectrum of consciousness.

Whatever the case, I predict aching, yearning, and comfort. “Hymns” is a gem for the times, mined from the deep.

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released March 17, 2010

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Pádraig Ó Tuama Belfast

poetry, songs, theopoetics, bits of heresy and lots of story.

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