Monday, 11 March 2019

A winter weekend in Copenhagen

Words for Lone Woman site on sobriety, borders, stereotypes and nature. The interpretations featured on this site are deeply moving and inspiring. 

Wednesday, 27 February 2019

'Unnameable Things' for The Clearing

'I have found the words for butterflies, in my native tongue, and I am drawing their lines on my insides. I am ready, now, to speak of unnameable things.'

                                 Words for The Clearing at  Little Toller Books on their site now.

This essay was incredibly moving to write, and the fact it was written for this deeply inspiring site has filled me with such gratitude and courage.

Monday, 25 February 2019

'Naomh Bríd' for Oh Comely

'When winter lays its head down, memories dance; the delicate ghosts of who we once were...Light, streaming out, unstoppably; to a soundscape of oystercatchers...'

Words about St Brigid, Ireland and healing for Oh Comely .

New Year, New Moon Bird

I have some words about 'Curlew Moon' by Mary Colwell on Mark Avery's site. It was such a pleasure to write about this book and my own curlew experiences. 

Saturday, 2 February 2019

'That Further Shore'

'That Further Shore' has been highly commended in the New Welsh Writing Awards 2018: Aberystwyth University Prize for an Essay Collection Shortlist. 

"This collection hinging on Northern Ireland is strikingly organised around images of wild animals. Its themes are ‘making place’ through art, exile, transfer, transition and bridges to reconciliation. Its voice is personal, empathetic and political. Classical references, symbols and motifs from the natural world put this entry into the class of literature."

'Atlantic Palimpsest

'Atlantic Palimpsest' has found a home at The London Magazine after being shortlisted for The National Memory Day Prize.

‘Atlantic palimpsest’ 

-for Heaney and the Peace Bridge 

Grey and greying sky  
reflected in choppy body, 
as our matching heron 
performs his balancing act for all to see. 
The Donegal hills, 
waiting; barren, 
call a siren song, 
lost and piercing- on the wind. 
ours is a past seeped in rust. 
a history bathed in thick, black squelch; 
M U D L A R K I N G, always, for our sense of self. 
waiting for that ancient bogland 
to spit 
and spew 
and remould 
our memory of last Winter, 
in all its terrifying beauty. 
The years that have passed 
are like a body now lost 
to the sea: already long gone 
many moons before that dark body of water 
swallowed it up 
-claiming-maiming; tossed 
-out and in along a coast line  
that will not claim ownership, in the harsh grey spell of morning. 
Things hidden under the surface 
that cannot 
be kept in the belly of the sea. 
Memories that are washed up 
all along the tideline- obscuring the path 
not yet solid; the future not yet in seed. 
 I gather spat up objects, broken things and leftover parts of the storm  
and begin to see them, clearly, in all that fragile, unstoppable beauty;  
under a thundering, Island-thick sky.

Thursday, 4 January 2018

Hourglass Literary Journal


                                               LARK / DARK;  
                                      MIRROR MEETS THE MIRE. 

I am humbled by the news that 'Smugachán Sráide' is one of four essays in English shortlisted for Best Essay in the Hourglass competition. 

The essay deals with grief, the Troubles, Martin McGuinness's death, a female project around the term 'Border' at Void Gallery and mudlarking.