We were all on the bus ready to leave Loughcrew, the Sliabh na Callighe, the Hill of the Hag,
when our stalwart bus driver Tom Kirwan asked, “Did you see the monument they
put up to old Mick”? Mick Tobin was a
fixture in the car park at Loughcrew. He’d
been there every time I’d been there starting in 2005 except in 2011, the year
that he died. He was a local man who
knew all the stories of the place and was passionate about Loughcrew. When Carol Kearney came in 2006, she had a
long talk with him.
I jumped out
of the bus to look at the stone and saw that the poem had been written by
George Knight. George Knight was an
Office of Public Works guide at Loughcrew for many years, and he too was
passionate about “The Hill”. My understanding of the place was significantly
deepened and enhanced by his knowledge.
I’ll never forget the time we were inside Cairn T, the largest and most elaborately
decorated of the passage tombs on the site.
He told us that we were inside the living body of the goddess, and he
described how the sun came in the passage on the equinoxes to fill her with
light and life. He said that these
magnificent places represented the very beginning of religion in Ireland.
George
retired a couple of years ago, and I had really been missing him during our
visit on this day. The guides that are currently serving are very friendly, but
neither of them have George’s deep knowledge – or if they do they don’t have
his ability to share it.
George’s
dedicatory poem to Mick Tobin is filled with references to Loughcrew. Mick, who was born on the summer solstice,
must have been conceived at the Autumn Equinox, one of the times that light
fills the chamber at Cairn T.
Here is the
text of the poem:
Child of the Solstice
We left you
dancing at your party,
surrounded by
your friends and neighbours.
Speeches
tugged at heartstring,
a life well
lived described with eloquence.
You danced a
jig before us all,
years slipped
away.
A young man
looking out on a long future.
That old
devil Father Time tied,
trussed and
helpless in the corner,
His presence
not recognized.
The Old
women became like the young girls
they once
had been in your presence.
The tilted
back their heads,
Grey locks
became the golden hair of Youth.
All life
spread out,
A feast to
be enjoyed and we are dining still.
We jested,
laughed and sang
and still
enjoyed the power of The Hill.
When you
were conceived ninety years ago,
the Cairn on
Loughcrew
With
sunlight filled the Autumn Equinox.
A child of
Summer Solstice born and
that sunlight around you shining still.
George R.
Knight, June 2008
In Memory of
Mick Tobin 1918-2011
The picture at the top shows Carol Kearney and Mick Tobin in 2006
The last picture is Mick's monument.
I’ve written
about Loughcrew in the Ireland Journal several times before: http://irelandjournal.typepad.com/lizs_ireland_journal/2007/06/st_patrick_and_.html
http://irelandjournal.typepad.com/lizs_ireland_journal/2008/06/there-really-ar.html
http://irelandjournal.typepad.com/lizs_ireland_journal/2009/06/the-goddess-of-rocky-places.html
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