Irish Girl
For hot tempers, read the hairline
Published in
Jul 29, 2024
The loose weave of her flame-red hair
flashes its orange blur. Aries? Leo?
I should know as a specialist in fiery nature.
Her beacon weaves its thread into an
obdurate head, an open declaration to
all-comers. I’m an Irish girl, it says. Defiant!
But when I ask her of The Troubles
she pales, unaware of her nation’s history
& its failure to expel invaders — Vikings
British who, drawn to this green & Emerald
Isle expect only waterfalls & fecund
valleys, pub songs & dashing racehorse trainers.
If only they had raised their gaze from the ground
read the signs, they might have seen the bombs
the thwarted hearts, the cries for justice
& never again set foot on Irish soil.
Copyright Simon Heathcote
