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Niamh

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Niamh

Time to look

The walls have textures

dents, lines and cracks

I’ve never noticed before,

a grease mark that sends

me scurrying for rubber gloves

and detergent, then I spot

the lonely paw print,

impossibly high, no cat

could stretch that far,

and why only one?

She couldn’t have reached

down from somewhere

higher, it’s the wrong way

round for that.

I stand back, twist and turn

another step away

to peruse it from a slightly

different angle

still it makes no sense.

I crouch underneath,

reach up, testing my flexibility

the cat looks at me as if

I’ve gone insane, glares,

then stands mewing by

her bowl.

It’s dinner time and I’ve

lost the hours since lunch.

 

 

©Niamh Corcoran 31/3/’20

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When will you call?

When will you call?
When my body is cold in the ground,
or as I take my last breath?

It's dark and lonely in this place,
my thoughts shout and echo
whisper and sneer,
you're a burden
no one wants you here.

When will you call?
I have a knife in my hand,
the end is near.

I see the social media posts,
telling me you are there,
but a  phone call away,
you are waiting for me
to call in for tea.

When will you call?
you say you love me,
but I don't believe you.

I will not call you,
I cannot call anyone,
for this depression,
the darkness, the blackness
that holds me captive

will not allow me that solace,
it tells me over and over
that I am not good enough
not worthy of your love
of time in your busy life.

When will you call?
Knock on my door? 
Do you know it could save me?
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Eulogy

A fragment of life

spoken through gritted teeth

choking back the tears

you thought you knew her

yet you’re hearing of

feats and deeds, courage

that were not part of

your conversations

 

you weep again

for the woman you knew

the one you didn’t

and wish you had,

you only saw half

the mountains she climbed.

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Cities of ruin

Come, look, see what we have done,

built towers of glistening glass

concrete and steel, reaching

ever higher, above the gloom,

 

majestic spires, concave, convex

creations, masterpieces of

engineering, so tall we

wonder how they stay upright

 

heads in the clouds we praise

our ingenuity as we peer down

at the streets below almost

hidden by the choke of fumes

 

we too have created; replacing

our forests, our fields of green

with monuments to our supposed

superior intelligence

 

where we can ignore the ongoing

destruction, of this place we call

home,

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Fledgling

Do you remember the night

I held your hand

brushed your tears away

chased the monster from

under your bed

 

it had yellow teeth

purple spots on green skin

the longest claws ever seen

eyes like fish bowls

 

you’d drawn it in school

and made it real,

given it a home

where it kept you awake

 

in the early hours I was your

knight in shining armour

the bravest person you knew

you held me close told me

 

you’d never let me go.

Today the bed is gone,

you’ve moved out to start

your new life, an adult

 

I’ve shed a little tear

but know that I am near

should that scary monster

ever reappear.

 

 

© Niamh Corcoran 8/9/19

 

 

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I am here…

I can no longer hold you

or speak to you,

comfort you in your sorrow

but I am here.

 

I can no longer reach out a hand

to wipe away your tears,

assuage your fears,

but I am here.

 

In the warm sun on your back

in the gentle breeze

that carries your worries away

I am here.

 

In the soothing purr of a cat

the whisper of butterfly wings

the scent of a rose

I am here.

 

In the moon and the stars

that light up the night sky

I am never far from you.

I am here.

 

Though you cannot see me,

or touch me,

say my name silently or aloud

I am here.

 

 

©Niamh Hill

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When love is not love…

I am watching you

and everything you do

keeping careful note

of the way you move,

the clothes you wear

the way you do your hair

which colours you favour

the foods you choose

pretending I love you

that I’m in awe of you

 

you lap up each compliment

growing more trusting

and vulnerable with

every passing day

unaware that I am building

an ammunition store

 

I’ll use your trust and secrets

to diminish you, crush you

for I fear you, your strength,

generosity and ability to love

and that which scares me

must be destroyed.

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Night train…

crashing through my brain,

never stops,

round the clock,

always on the move.

Casual passengers

fight for space,

worries and fears

compete for seats,

Each breath seems

to shout out

all aboard, all aboard,

come keep me awake.

The night and dark,

welcomes each new thought.

Images flit and flee,

never staying within grasp.

Encouraging a chase,

to understand, to see

what they mean.

Only the dawning sun,

and beeping alarm,

see them on their way,

these night-time passengers

in the dark will stay.

crashing through my brain,

never stops,

round the clock,

always on the move.

Casual passengers

fight for space,

worries and fears

compete for seats,

Each breath seems

to shout out

all aboard, all aboard,

come keep me awake.

The night and dark,

welcomes each new thought.

Images flit and flee,

never staying within grasp.

Encouraging a chase,

to understand, to see

what they mean.

Only the dawning sun,

and beeping alarm,

see them on their way,

these night-time passengers

in the dark will stay.

 

©Niamh Corcoran  25/11/2011

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To let go

the darkness beckons,

threatens to consume me,

the gossamer thread that

holds me here stretched

to its limits.

the future a flickering

pinprick,

there is comfort in the dark

an ease, a knowing, an ending,

today I may slip into

into its waiting arms

sever the links

to a life too hard

 

 

©Niamh Corcoran

 

 

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