The Blue Flower Of Chernobyl
She was a beautiful flower
growing in Chernobyl
a dark wasteland,
chemical fog clouded her sun.
Air a nightmare
she adapted to a hostile
environment,
surrounded by boars, bears
and wolves,
her feet root deep in toxic soil,
created walls to block
malfunction.
There in the wilderness
her outstretched arms
prussian veins fingered each leaf,
her bowed hands, waiting and tending
transparent tears poured
from transparent petals,
metallic tongue shaped cheeks
radiated
nuclear blue, overshadowed the night,
and light, the half light of trust,
yet, trust was all she had
absorbing poison.
This battlefield where others have died
made her a survivor
her heart a sky mirroring how sun,
the loneliness of soul,
and soil conspire to create,
an anomaly.
Deep in the thicket, love unnoticed,
she knew herself only as the forest
knew it’s reactors
Alone. She evolved
like a satellite, making it up
as she went along.
She emerged from an ocean of debris
like a lunar halo
it’s rays reflecting the ice
crystals
of cirrus cloud,
and now she goes on thriving,
reproducing her rare mutation,
hidden beauty, the strength of
purpose,
the hope we must find in
contamination.
Tired of news
and alone, I search for an anchor,
walk over the road, away from this
Cul da sac with no answer
a world where truth is a choice
where polite silence endangers,
shores up a movement
the online strangers that tell you to go
to hell
when you wonder why we can’t be
kind.
Kind - a word which threatens MAGA
belief,
driven by hunger, power imagines it
claims
even the rivers,
but the river flows on oblivious.
Words, stiff, and rigid, a stick
beating life
from meaning, lifeless words a corpse
trying to breathe,
relieved, we’ve proved sabotage
is part of being human.
It doesn’t stop there, we stomp
underground
circling this new world,
laneways, detours to nowhere,
where we can be anywhere on our
laptop ship,
ego at the wheel.
Press a finger on a button, hold
down
the great machine, where you travel
to space
without leaving your house, silence with
insult
from the other side of the world, believe you are Zeus.
Should I fight the hopelessness
with words greater than theirs?
walk on claiming no river, where no
river claims me,
it’s hum burbles a mirror of fate,
opens my heart
to what’s little, contributory
streams
in this bogland of peace, the Cregg, the
Clare
gulped by the Corrib–
all leap to one great ocean,
as the moorhen bobs her head
to it’s musical current.
Where salmon leap forward to breed,
terns, sandpipers feed on her body
the river, like news goes on
flowing to an endless death.
The black headed gull hovers over
its own reflection,
seeing another, dives into
itself.
My eyes in constant surprise.
Trees reflected on the waters
surface,
like the news, which is truth?
should I climb or dive?
Found Poem: Weather Lore
Dúchas.ie
Archival reference –
School collection -volume 0017 Page 193 - National Folklore Collection. UCD.
Collector: Frances
Corley
Informant: Thomas
Hussey, Scotland Road, Glenamaddy, Co. Galway.
School: Scoil
Sheosaimh Ntha (Cailíní) Glenamaddy Co. Galway. Teacher: Úna, Bean Uí
Threasaigh.
The following is
transcribed from the UCD Dúchas archives. It is a record of my Grandfathers
beliefs and folklore. This work is taken from late 1940’s records of a
children’s project in primary schools, which were kept at the schools where
they were recorded. They were later transferred to UCD digital archives.
They are all hand
written, as can be seen on the Dúchas website. His niece in law Frances Corley
wrote these scripts. (Tragically Frances died from meningitis shortly after
completing this project.)
I have transcribed
here exactly what was written in Frances handwriting.
Weather Lore
Signs of the Weather
When the clouds are
thick and low it is a sign of rain.
When the wind is South
West at the change of the moon, it is a sign of rain.
A blue light in the
fire is a sign of rain.
A vivid reflection in
the water, such as in a lake is a sign of rain.
When sheep flock to
the hill-tops is a sign of rain.
When walls become damp
it is a sign of rain.
When the sun sets red
in West it is a sign of rain.
When bones and
rheumatism are painful it is a sign of rain.
When a dog eats grass
it is a sign of rain.
A red sky in the
morning is a sign of a wet day.
When distant hills
look nigh it is a sure sign of rain.
When you hear crickets
singing, it is a sign of rain.
When a cat turns his
back to the fire, is a sign of rain.
A frog has a yellow
colour for fine weather and a brown colour for bad weather.
When wild geese come
from the North, it is a sign of frost.
When the robin comes
to the door, is a sign of snow.
When wild birds come
near to the house it is a sign of bad weather.
When there is a
rainbow in the morning it is a sign of broken weather, and a rainbow in the
evening is a sign of calmness.
A grey sky in the
morning is a sign of a fine day.
When the sun goes down
behind a bank of clouds it is a sign of broken weather.
A red reflection on
the Eastern side of the sky at sunset, is a great sign of fine weather
When the seagulls lie
inland, is a sign of stormy weather.
When the smoke is
blowing down it is a sign of rain.
When the moon is on
its back and black sing round it, that is a sign of rain.
When the swallows fly
low it is a sign of rain.
When the ducks go
about quacking it is a sign of rain.
When the fog goes up
in the morning it is a sign of rain.
Attracta Fahy’s background is Nursing/Social Care. She lives in Co.Galway, works as a Psychotherapist, and is a mother to three children. She completed her MA in Writing NUIG ‘17. She was October winner in Irish Times; New Irish Writing 2019, Pushcart, and Best of Web nominee, included in a number of Anthologies, including Of Mouth Northern Women’s Writings. She was shortlisted for 2018 Over The Edge New Writer of the year, and longlisted in 2019. Shortlisted for Allingham Poetry competition both 2019 & 2020. She has been published in Stinging Fly, Banshee, Poetry Ireland Review, Honest Ulsterman, Poethead, Orbis, Abridged, InkSweat&Tears, Curlew, 100 Words of Solitude, and several other journals at home and abroad. Attracta was a featured reader at the January OTE Open Reading in Galway City Library January 2020, and guest reader with New Mexico Irish American Society Poetry Salon February 2021. Fly on the Wall Poetry published her debut chapbook collection Dinner in the Fields, in March’20
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Great poems, Attracta.
ReplyDeleteI admire these poems for different reasons, but especially the first and last. The first for its lyrical approach to the mystery, the last fur its reliance in the language of daily observations, and of course so much foretells rain!
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