Would for the world I could touch her face
and hold her, my dear Fionuala,
hand in hand for a fragile moment,
but t'was jealousy greener than Lough Derravara
that fastened her arms with feathers,
turned her golden hair to beak.

Oh, to trace her smooth and regal cheek!
Three centuries of snort and silence,
the kettle whistle of forgotten folklore,
waiting for the church bells power
to free her webbed feet, so she
might walk green pastures once more.

©2024 | K.F. Hartless


adrianne lenker “sadness as a gift”

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10 responses to “My Dear Fionuala”

  1. Wonderful, K! ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, John. 💜

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You are very welcome. 😊

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  2. Liked by 1 person

    1. 💜 Thanks, Beth.

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  3. beautiful; I looked up the Irish myth and I appreciate your poem even more; thank goodness it ended happily 🙂 though it took a while —

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    1. Thanks, John.  😊 I was able to take Celtic literature as a choice elective in college. It was by far one of my favorite classes, so when I scrolled past this picture of the Children of Lir, it had to be done. I don’t know if waking up after 300 years trapped in the body of animal would be a happy ending…talk about some ptsd. But it is true that the children of Lir survived the ordeal.

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      1. I read that after 900 years she married her man and was released from her spell —

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      2. I thought I remembered 300 years, they were children when they turned to swans, and they were released by church bells and the arrival of christianity in Ireland. But, their families were long gone. Legends…and so it goes…

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      3. ‘and so it goes;, that famously repeated line from ‘Slaughterhouse 5’ which I’m rereading now ….

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