Wouldn’t you just eat her she said, and I smiled cos I kinda had to agree. I had come because I knew that full emersion was the only way to break the surface again for me. Nothing for it but the deep end, the only place I could go, nature, music and now poetry. I liked her language, she caught my eye, I wondered could she recognise my pain, read my face and know.
Hers was warm and open her stature small and lithe. I was ready for connection, so tired of isolation, chasing sadness with a stick, trying to make the wrong right. There was no making sense of it, pointless sorrow and pain. Her silvery Dublin lilt, her tiny sincere face, her frugal words that said so much. I could feel myself emerging, ready to exhale, time and Art will do it every time without fail.

On hearing the words of Poet Paula Meehan when I most needed to.

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