Jack McCann. Born in Rush, Co. Dublin, Ireland. He is a retired Plastic Surgeon living in Co. Galway in the West of Ireland and was on the European Board of Plastic Surgery. Some of his poetry is inspired by his Medical work in Ireland, Albania and Kosovo. Been writing seriously for the past ten years and attends The Writer’s Res in Spiddal (Maire Holmes) and Oughterard Writers Group (Pete Mullineaux). Has published three collections of poetry, Turning on a Sixpence in 2011, Escaped Thoughts in 2012 and The Child Grows Up in 2013. He is included in four anthologies, Off the Cuff (KARA) in 2012, Oughterard Voices in 2013, Whispering Trees (KARA) in 2015, By the Lake (Oughterard) in 2016 and Shadows (Oughterard) in 2018. He has written plays and is currently finishing a novel.
“I have an earthquake in my head”, he said
as he clasped his hands over his ears,
his response – too much noise around him.
He had forgotten his earphones,
protectors of his sensitivity,
blockers of the rumbles that assault him.
So he leaves and inhabits a quiet corner,
removing his hands slowly when satisfied
everything is toned down.
He can now relax and so can we.
A collision with a dose of reality.
I hum a tune – it comes out sad.
He picks it up, smiles and says
“the earthquake is gone from my head!”
07. 01. 2020
He wanted a hug!
He wanted to hug his mother
one last time.
He says he will never be able to do it again.
The pain is in his face,
the tears in his eyes.
He is a refugee in Turkey,
she at home in Syria.
He had gone back
but was imprisoned,
for deserting his country.
He cannot risk it again,
he now has a wife and children.
His mother will never hold her grandchildren,
tell them family stories,
rock them to sleep,
wipe away their tears.
The tragedy of war!
3. 12. 2019
I tell the interpreter
to say exactly what I say
to the parent of the child.
There can be no rough translation
of the operation to be performed.
The explanation too important,
the resultant questions similarly
dealt with and exhausted satisfactorily.
Hand is put across chest and exchanged.
Their child is now in my hands
with their blessing and dreams.
I want to do justice to their faith and belief.
24. 10. 2019
You crossed the dividing line!
Not where you were supposed to go.
You had enough of the concentration camp,
ending it all on the electric fence.
Left there for all to see.
Even the birds were afraid to kiss you goodbye.
20. 09. 2019