‘and the fire brought a crowd in’– Austin Clarke, The Planter’s DaughterWhen night stirs in meit brings no dream of sea,no quench, no liquid reprieve. Night raises only the old roar,sets the stench of petrolspilling once more. Old men watched me from the lawn;I knew their mute gaze, grown grey,grown cold, as I knew allthe women on the gravel, foldingwhispers in their shawls. I turned from them and saw it begin,our windows brightening,lit one by one from within:cellar, hall, kitchen. Doireann Ní Ghríofa is a bilingual writer.

Source: The Irish Times January 20, 2018 04:52 UTC