Helen and the Irish Sea

I took a writing class at the Irish Writing Center in Dublin once and met a lovely young British woman named Helen.

By Susan Claire Fleming Allen

 Helen and the Irish Sea

Helen thought I would turn

and give up on the second step…

but I did not!  I

knew I would dive in

head first, the icy blue sea, all mine,

no matter if the men call it their own.

 

Helen dove in first

while I loitered on

the rocky steps, stirring one leg about

like a soup ladle. 

Men in tight swim trunks and bathing caps pushed passed me

indignant to my female hesitation.

 

Finally, humiliated and determined

I met the frigid salty sea face to face

And let out a primitive howl as I surfaced,

alive as freezing pins and needles aroused me

with legs moving like a frog’s, and arms stroking the water.

 

We swan out together, me and Helen.

In Joyce’s Sandy Cove,

And discussed the similarities between Aboriginals and

Indians in America.  We agreed the problem

with our world is that cultures are being lost.

Reviews

[Susan C. Allen]

Thanks Poppy...I am not really a poet but every once in a while one just comes flying out of me. ;D Susan

[Ruth]

Oh, poignant piece, I could feel it as well as read it :) And a clever finale too! x