I Am Connemara

October 6, 2018

 

I Am Connemara

 

 

Lightning’s digital signal pulses on, off. On. Off. The sun hangs in gauzes through cygnet clouds, asks the rainbow to come back, come back, and he does: a stooping giant with seven colours in his cobweb skin. Life is too little to hold this. I rattle the car along strange roads, peaks, ragged valleys. When I see water, it carries acres of impulsive sky. I descend into a village. Park among stones outside a stout-chimneyed cottage. Her cottage. Somewhere, I have breathed in a moth – it flits from organ to organ. Her sister, my aunt, opens the door, opens her arms. I, motherless, need the weight of her. She fits into my glass mosaic, then leads me towards the kitchen: there are other aunts in there, slicing barmbrack, and uncles against worksur