Memory If I tell you of my pain Can you stay Will you turn away? If I spell out my grief Can you cope Or, like a thief Will you steal away My hope Of being heard? Still she stands at the open fire Hands soft and wrinkled Skirt sprinkled with tiny flowers. My face enfolded as she rocks me to and fro Ochoneo go deo, go deo Movourneen o; go dilis o! If I pour out the poison of my pain Can you refrain From saying, "You'll be O.K. I've got lots to do today?" If you cannot stay or cope or care I understand Only please don't hold my hand And pretend. I'd like to find a friend Who will stay Until I get it off my chest. This trauma of the past. This pain, and grief and woe. Ochoneo go deo, go deo Movourneen o; go dilis o! Copyright 1999 Anne Kelly To Order Send $10 (incl. Postage and Packing) to: S.B.A. Publications, 6, Forest Park, Rivervalley, Swords, County Dublin. Ireland Cheque or money order payable to S.B.A. Publications Further enquiries e.g. bulk orders phone: Anne Kelly, Dublin (018404661) 353-1-8404661

About this book From the Forward to A Homecoming Anne Kelly once told me that Achill people had a special bond, that it was deeply important to them to contact other Achill people wherever they went. Not just other Irish people, other Achill people. Most likely there are many reasons for this. Maybe Achill has been in some ways marginalised by virtue of its location. Maybe because it's an island which is so close to being part of the mainland, it has developed a unique and cohesive way of life which gives its people a sense of belonging which they can never forget. I don't know, I'm not from there. One of the reasons Anne mentioned was the beauty of the place. When she said it, and when she talks about growing up in Achill, it's obvious that the 'island' is still living in her body, soul and mind. That's the feeling I get from these poems too, a sense that each rock, each crevice and each sea-storm represents a part of herself. When we look back we can't really separate the surroundings from the internal. Maybe when we look forward we needn't either. How come we can experience conflict in the so-called natural world without moralising on whether the fox was 'right' to kill that chicken or whether the storm was 'right' to knock the slate off the roof? How come we can accept all that external wildness and find it so hard to admit it in ourselves? Why can't we just allow ourselves to spin out our own trail and eventually rest in the kind of fearful order that natural forces create? Well, we're human and many of us like to think we have created a new order that makes us better than all the rest. If you're one of those, all I'd like to say is - look on these poems and relax. Maighread Medbh