Her Story by Maigrhead Medbh




well, we mightn't wear red linen skirts
or knitted shawls on our backs
we mightn't spout the Gaeilge or shout
out 'come all yes' at the drop of a hat
but most of us remember all of that
n how our mothers walked five or six miles
home from a dance on dark oul roads
or over the mountains barefoot
in the summers that were always warm
n a lot of us remember with our broad, strong hips
how the children came
n how they were diedled on the knee
n with a swing of our shoulders
n a strutting backside we're sharp n swift
n ready for a roll

n the ones that love us say we're as soft as our rain
n as biting as our rain
n we're like how the long grass sways before it turns to gold
n they say, those people, that we turn to gold too
n indeed we do
n indeed we do

well, we mightn't look any different
from the wans across the water
n we might buy our jumpers in Marks 'n Sparks
but when it comes to craic
we know how to make
the sparks rise from our feet n our smiles
n it's no accident that a lot of us are mad,
generous, over-spending hoors
we remember, one way or another,
what the poor feel like
n we're filling our stomachs with the cravings
of the wans that cried
who's to know, we say, what might happen
between this n christmas?
we remember it all
we remember it all

there's many a woman here with colours
bright enough to strike the eye half
blind
you'll see her walking strong n light along the street
or working hard n physical like her one-time mothers
who lifted tankards n churned butter
n brought up twelve children
with one hand tied

you might think we're all like Americans
now that Europe says it's one
but these women / they never died
not through sword attack nor hunger attack
not through rape nor beating
not through penal law nor Roman law
not through their own brave revolutions
when they carried guns n used them
not through time n not out of song n rhyme
they never died
no
they never died.