Something beautiful for you Sinéad O'Connor

Sinéad your music has ferociously wrapped around our hearts and throats and carried us through this fearsome journey, this life. Through the pulsing of this painful joyful life, it is the words of the poets and teh songmakers who anoint a salve.

From poet Pádraig Ó Tuama...

"It's hard to describe the way that Sinéad O’Connor's life was a soundtrack for the Ireland I grew up in. Her artistry, courage, bravery, vulnerability, complications, humour, insights, limitations and dedication were all on display, and in it all, I loved her work. I went to a Sinéad gig once, years ago, with Cary Gibson. Afterwards, Cary wrote in her blog that when Sinéad opened her mouth to hold a loud long note, you didn't know "If she was going to give birth to the universe, or swallow it."

We people who are darker than blue as Sinead sang, these people are truth to the powers.There is no feeling of exultant victory and celebration drinks at the bar as a reward when humans live, speak, protest, sing, dance, paint and write truth to the dark powers.

It always ends in tears. And those tears tell a story.

“They tried to bury me. They didn’t realise I was a seed.” Sinéad O’Connor

In 1992 Kris Kristofferson manned up and was an active bystander with the drive by shooting of Sinéad as many sources have quoted..."In 1992, Kris Kristofferson comforted Sinéad O'Connor when she was booed off the stage at a Bob Dylan anniversary concert. He later wrote this for her. May we all have her courage. May we all tell the truth."

"I'm singing this song for my sister Sinead

Concerning the god awful mess that she made

When she told them her truth just as hard as she could

Her message profoundly was misunderstood

There's humans entrusted with guarding our gold

And humans in charge of the saving of soul

And humans responded all over the world

Condemning that bald headed brave little girl

And maybe she's crazy and maybe she ain't

But so was Picasso and so were the saints

And she's never been partial to shackles or chains

She's too old for breaking and too young to tame

It's askin' for trouble to stick out your neck

In terms of a target a big silhouette

But some candles flicker and some candles fade

And some burn as true as my sister Sinead

And maybe she's crazy and maybe she ain't

But so was Picasso and so were the saints

And she's never been partial to shackles or chains

She's too old for breaking and too young to tame”