Siuil, Siuil

i tripped today,

somewhere

between the road and paddy's grave,

alone in the thickets and dusky heather,

and in the silken

morning fog.

 

the blackbird listened as i sat

and cried.

she was kindly, wrinkled,

whispering

naughty child, alanna

as she wiped the berry stains from my fingers,

the bloodstains

from my knees.

This poem is about: 
My country
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741