A snowfall, soft and unexpected
the morning we were born,
our two small heads in white bassinets
sparkling like crystals in the short light,
silence shattered by a delay, a tongue-tied cry,
but— you were out of tune, cottonwool muffling
your voice, not claimed, not fully yours.
I followed the dispossessed trajectory.
In my first moments I am
your angel, and send my blue iris
over your crib with the caring cherubim.
For days we stretch under fluorescent light.
After the snow, the teardrops in the window
we never see. Our primeval faith, our determination
to grow like spring shoots out of the black earth.
Somewhere, soft sobs, a dubious thaw.
Mary Madec’s fourth book The Ghost in the Bole, is forthcoming from Salmon. Using the myth of Eurydice it explores personal and environmental grief. Her project with Among the Trees, based on this myth and developed with Corlann Services, Galway was showcased by Cúirt 2022. She recently returned to Westport, her hometown.
More work by Mary Madec
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