One Long Poem by Marguerite Doyle

The Legend of Cessair, Ireland’s Exile Queen 

 

 

I told them to prepare, the flood was near, 

and nowhere on Earth would be immune. 

I had to take command and quell the fear 

and tell the people what they had to do. 

 

Bith had argued with his father, Noah, 

who refused him safe passage on the Ark. 

Time was short, Bith no longer young, 

the storm clouds were gathering and dark. 

 

Bith came to see me, worried, in distress, 

Cessair, my daughter, what do you advise? 

They say this is a trial that’s sent to test— 

a riddle for the foolish and the wise. 

 

I said he must bring forth an idol god 

with Fionntan; who he trusted, and I knew. 

The idol ordered them to build a boat, 

and take our people there for safe refuge. 

 

Ladra came to steer our sturdy ship, 

I commanded him to sail to distant shores, 

to seek out an island veiled in mist, 

beyond the furthest reaches of the flood. 

 

There was a place called Éire, far away, 

I often heard of it in stories, as a child. 

So Ladra sailed our ship out of the bay, 

to unknown seas and bitter northern skies. 

 

We voyaged night and day for seven years, 

as time passed I fell in love with Fionntan. 

He made me laugh and chased away my fears, 

my equal too, in heart and mind, ambition. 

 

A tempest came and broke our ship apart, 

and cast us on an island, emerald-green. 

We salvaged all we could, with heavy hearts, 

on Éire’s shore, my people made me queen. 

 

This time was forty days before the flood, 

but my father, Bith had sickened on the way. 

The voyage and the hardship took their toll, 

both he and Ladra died, the sea their graves. 

 

As first to come ashore, this was my land, 

I claimed it so, and Fionntan married me; 

but he was restless, would pace the sands 

for signs of flood, or sit and watch the sea.  

 

One day white horses galloped to the shore, 

winds did howl o’er lightning in the sky. 

Strange creatures of the deep began to float 

up to the surface, the horizon rose high. 

 

My people rushed in panic from the flood, 

I cried out for Fionntan, but he had gone. 

With a spell to take the form of a salmon, 

he saved himself; and left me to die alone. 

 

My name is Cessair, Ireland’s exile queen, 

lamenting my dear father and my home. 

Sailors say at night they hear me keening, 

searching for my husband on the shore. 

 

There is one more task to do, I will not rest, 

my people drowned, Fionntan abandoned me. 

I plot with sprites and selkies my revenge, 

and whisper secrets to the furies of the sea.

Marguerite Doyle is a Best of the Net Nominated Poet and holds an M.A. in Creative Writing from Dublin City University. Her poems have been published in Vallum, Reliquiae Journal, The Seventh Quarry, The Galway Review, The New Welsh Reader, Dreich and previously in Lothlorien Poetry Journal.  Marguerite’s poetry also appears in the Dedalus Anthology, Local Wonders: Poems of Our Immediate Surrounds and The Ireland Chair of Poetry Commemorative Anthology, Hold Open the Door. She has been Winner in Category for the Trócaire / Poetry Ireland Competition and was both shortlisted and highly commended for the Anthology Poetry Award. In 2024 she was winner of the Poets Meet Painters International Poetry Competition, as part of Kenmare Arts Festival, Co. Kerry, Ireland.