Walking hurriedly, as most Modernists do

I focused ahead looking for familiar landmarks

Stranded, no exploring, the mainland of my family

Centered in the city of my mother’s blood

I came upon a tall stone wall

Which is not uncommon for the local wanderer

But the wall opened up and bordered an accentuating view of perspective that made me pause

Not a single breath escaped while I was absorbed in the timeless enchantment

Completely hypnotized by the sheer beauty of the swans

Fascinating, majestic flyers who share their wisdom through their eyes

As I watched, I imagined the poor children of Lir and shed a tear for the fate of a love’s deception

As if I walked into the fairy tale pages themselves

And overheard the narrator describing some minute detail about the color of the water

But as a character, my fate was written, so I chose not to listen

Instead, I inspected their freedom of the blue expanse of territories and I imagined that,

Any creature dressed in feathers painted all of the pink shades of a pearl,

Has to be touched by the most merciful hand


A moment of memory in Galway printed on a photograph, circa 2008

I am grateful for the copy of “Irish Fairy and Folk Tales” by Yeats that my Grandma gave me. ❤

2 responses »

    • Aw thank you so much! This piece turned out to be something that inspired a lot of emotion in me. I can remember that day as clearly as if it were happening right now.

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