Samson’s Hair
Delilah did her job,
Samson’s head lay on her knees
As on a dish
And his hair was cut and his strength
Was gone without his knowledge.
When he woke up and tried to break
The ropes that bound him it was too late,
But the story could not be finished
As long as Samson was still alive.
The world knows only how his strength was taken
But I remember also what came later
And in the immense hall I feel afraid
Standing beside those two golden pillars
As I wait for Samson’s hair to grow.
Ileana came to Dublin and she signed my book! This poem is taken from After the Raising of Lazarus trans, Éilean ní Chuilléanain, 2005 Southward Editions.
Chris Murray 