This Morning . . .



This morning I read a beautiful piece that my friend, the poet Niall O’Connor posted on Facebook titled The Life of Poetry by Muriel Rukeyser. It struck a chord with me as I had just written a poem having found a photograph of my mother the previous evening. Rukeyser in the piece talks of poetry as “A way to allow people  . . . to feel the full value of the meaning of emotions  and ideas in their relations with each other.” Thank you for the sharing Niall. So I share this poem in its raw, un-worked state.  I don’t know if it’s the start of something bigger, or the end . . . of something I’ve been trying to say for years.


After all these years

I found her again in a photograph last night

And it’s not as if I don’t have hundreds

But this one was her . . .

Her in the middle of a party

Her in the middle of a song of laughter

With her head thrown back

Her blue rinsed hair curled too tight with

A look in her eyes that had a way of telling me

The world would come ‘round right.

Eithne Reynolds


2 thoughts on “This Morning . . .

  1. ‘Her in the middle of a song of laughter’
    Now there’s a way to be remembered. Beautiful and thank you for sharing both your work and your memory.

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