Fr McGreal - the Mayo Maverick

You could have taken a strong parish

in a market town with a new car every year,

but instead you took the unapproved road

to live out the gospel with travellers on the long acre,

endorsing McCauls song, Go, Move, Shift, 

whispering justice, justice.

You could have lived in the parish priests’ house

played golf with the right people,

but instead you chose the old family ruin

to write about prejudice and tolerance

pluralism and diversity in the dim light, 

crying justice, justice.

You could have had a safe life in academia

with robes and a procession on conferring days,

but instead you demanded rights for women on the altar

for gay people, single parents, the homeless, migrants

you were the pin to deflate Vatican pomp

chanting justice, justice.

You could have receded into the shadows

enjoyed the comforts of old age and respectability,

but instead you fought for the Western rail corridor

you were the voice that wouldn’t be silenced,

the pebble in every politicians shoe,

shouting  justice, justice.

And now as snow gathers around immigrant tents 

and burned down hotels greet the refugees,

you would be holding the mirror up to our Failte lies,

reminding us that we too were scattered by war and famine,

as we sit in our cosy living rooms watching the Gaza Genocide, 

you would be screaming justice, justice.