Ireland’s God is an angry song. But its anger is a front for hurt. The hurt of rejection. Because of gender and sexuality. The hurt felt by a young person who felt unwelcome in the embrace of their church in the run up to the Marriage Equality Referendum. At best carelessly and at worst maliciously denounced from the pulpit. And the price. Faith.

This song is a raising up. An exaltation. Of the beauty of our LGBTQ+ young people. 

It is a declaration made on behalf of our children. A declaration of our love.

Lyrics

The music’s loud, it’s brash, a roar
I turn around, raise hands, dance floor
Release, abandon, heart it soars
Life is good despite the draw

I once believed in Ireland’s god
I knelt and prayed, confessed, head bowed
But how can I lie down before
A church that closes shut its door

To children lost in search of love
To children lost in search of love

Throughout the workshops there was much talk of children. Members of the group talked about their children. The moment of their births. Memories of holding them – infants in arms. Their smell. The softness of their skin.

Laura's Words

Moment – when I felt most alive

A moment that lasts and lasts and lingers and lingers and goes on forever. When Siobhán was born. I held her on my chest. It was my most deeply emotional experience. I was late having a child, nearly 40, the culmination of all my dreams.

l felt happy, grateful. The world stood still.

Their hurts you feel, their joy you share
A love so deep, caught unawares
Their needs, not yours, it’s their world now
Absorb the new, adapt somehow

I once believed in Ireland’s god
I knelt and prayed, confessed, head bowed
But how can I lie down before
A church that closes shut its door

To children lost in search of love
To children lost in search of love

Pat’s words

Life moment

Excitement, they arrive
New love you feel
Their needs before yours
Their joy you share
Their hurts you feel
No going back

Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar
Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar
Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar
Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar

Stand for beauty, in all its forms
Recalibrate, reset the norm
The tender touch of daughter’s hair
Demands a god that’s just and fair

Joyce’s words

Textures I remember

Soft woollen baby vests, and flannelette gowns, worn by my babies. Hand washed, ironed and handled with care.
Ladybird books, I read them to the kids, and as I did the stories came alive.

Grass and sand. Although they were always part of my life, I think I appreciated my surroundings more after I had my children.

And suddenly, in being wholly responsible for another human being, it was no longer possible to be the centre of their own worlds. And through their children’s experiences, participants encountered new worlds and, in those moments of meeting, they are changed.

I once believed in Ireland’s god
Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar

I once believed in Ireland’s god
Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar

I once believed in Ireland’s god
Raise up, speak out, be heard, let’s roar