Dan Beirne

And the Steeples Framed It

Walking down the street early morning, the sun had yet to arrive, I saw Mr. Hancock peering at me through the clouds.  The clouds, for lack of dawn, were still dark and the entire city, along with most of Mr. Hancock, was shrouded in darkness, invisible.  Only the white strip of horizontal lights, and the two irrevocably familiar antennae pierced the dark clouds and reached into the golden dawn where the Sun had begun today.  And this, all of this, the city steeples framed.

LightHouse

While I was waiting for my dad in an Argentine airport, I watched the people.  Arrival gates in airports are one of my favorite places in the world.  The reunions and tears that are seen there are so purely joyful and genuine that it warms your heart just to watch.  I was waiting next to a family of three children and a mother.  The kids were playing and running around, and the mother looked tired, but strong.  Then, the father walked out of the arrival gate.  One of the children, a little boy, ran under the security dividing band and clung to his father.  All of the weight and luggage that the man was carrying was dropped to the floor in an instant.  He clung to his child.  Then, the child did something interesting.  As he remained with his arms strapped to his father’s torso, he rotated his head outward and looked away.  He looked out to all of us, to the world it seemed, and beamed his smile like a lighthouse unto us all.  His father is back, and he wanted the world to know how wonderful that felt.  I could feel the light on my face.

Diagonals

El Zonte, 11:00pm, in the wake of Matthew:

Through the haze and mist of the ocean’s night storm, the light breaks the darkness.  A wide trapezoidal beam beacons its chest out from the hostel, on to the black shore, diagonal.  The wind picks up and the lights on the distant cliff flicker in the misty atmosphere.  As I watch the wind ride the waves in, I listen to its arrival in the palms behind me.  Diagonal white lines approach and recede, as the night ocean cautiously investigates my presence.  First lapping at my toes, and then firmly gripping my ankles, and driving my heels into the sand, I felt the ocean greet me.  Then I spoke to God and returned to the diagonal light.

Julia

Upon seeing Julia, the grandma that knits smiles under the bridge, the drunk shirtless man dropped his holy bag of belongings and fell to his knees.  He said he was sorry and scooted forward on his knees, lowering his head with each movement, until his head rest upon her bosom, embraced by her fragile arms.  She held him as if he were her only child, and she prayed over him.  She blessed him with the sign of the cross over his heart, and held his head as she asked God to remove this demon of drinking from this poor man.  He looked as if he was about to weep when the Amen brought him to his feet.  He shook her hand apologetically, said thank you, and crossed the street.