On Sunday, February 20th, 2011, the coldest night of the winter thus far, Mary Grace Farrell died on the steps of St. Brigid’s Church in Tompkins Square Park, NY. This church was built by Irish Famine emigrants. Born in Ireland, she had gone to New
York at seventeen to pursue her dream of being an artist. She spent some time in an orphanage in Drogheda and a friend from that time describes her as “a sweet girl with a lovely smile and a heart of gold.” Mary Grace Farrell leaves behind a twelve-year old son named Oliver. The following is a short reflection on her life.
Mary Grace Farrell
Concrete pillow. Concrete bed
Is this the place to lay my head when I am dead?
Whose child were you Who died upon a city street?
A baby once, A baby loved and tiny.
A child Sunny and growing.
A flower of life On a landscape Of hope and possibility.
When did love turn away And leave you To wander?
Leave you to die, Tired and cold?
Too tired and cold to know
That life was Slipping from your weary body
into the stone-cold steps on which you lay.
Did you know this? Did you know?
In those bone-cold Early morning hours
No passer-by would stop And render aid.
There’s danger in the night.
our sorrow is That we, too, might have Passed you by.
our pain is that we, too, might have sensed
The danger in the night.
And so you died alone On the steps Of
a house of worship.
A white sheet. A siren. One tiny blip of news
In a news-saturated day.
Sadly, we will forget. our tears for you will dry
and we will forget.
But for now we remember. we remember and are sad.
Sad for you…For us…For a world
that does not stop When life meets death
On the stone-cold steps of A house of worship.
May god give rest to your soul,
Mary Grace Farrell.
thank you to Anne Duggan, Texas for sharing this tragic and sad story of Mary Grace Farrell
What a tragic story.
The poem is brilliant and oh so true. How can a life so precious end such a way? Where was the network of support we all need? Someone to notice what was happening- or is everyone just too busy? The bit I didn’t like in the poem at first was the bit about forgetting. But it is true. I will have forgotten this story within a week. And yes it does make me sad , not only for the sad and lonely death, but for the world where this can happen. May god indeed give rest to the soul of Mary Grace Farrell.
More information on this story at, http://www.irishcentral.com/news/Remembering-Grace-A-personal-account-from-an-old-Irish-friend-116804968.html
and,
http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2011/02/22/2011-02-22_she_arrived_full_of_hope_but_body_of_oncepromising_artist_is_found_on_village_si.html
Thank you, Chris. MY apologies for the punctuation and capitalization. Something got “lost in translation” between Texas and Millstreet. Something to do with the font I used. Yes, the story made me very sad indeed and it is not as remote as one might think. The world is a busy place and people are suffering all around us. One does not have to be in NY or any other metropolis to suffer the indignity of being homeless and alone. It may be right around the corner from where you live. When I was growing up in Millstreet there were always prayers offered at Mass for those who had immigrated. As a child I was very aware of the hardships of those who left home and family and country for whatever reason. I wonder if prayers are still said for those of us who are “away?”
Thank you Anne for sharing such a very moving and special poem. Clearly our many website followers will remember Mary Grace Farrell in their prayers. Oftentimes very sad happenings like this help to put things into perspective for so many and guides us to the real priorities of life.
Sean! Congratulations on your special night. You deserve all of it and more. Thank you for your thoughtful comments about my piece on Mary Grace.
Thanks a million Anne – You are one of our most loyal followers and friend of our Millstreet website and such a superb Irish Ambassador in the USA.