Falls Road

 

Bereft of two brothers and one fiancé,
she passed their photos to me.
In a roija wine soliloquy,
their stories were transformed
to Northern liturgy: a Psalm for the Falls.

She told of the South alive

with honeycombed nettles  

and white-haired old dandelions;

of her brother, not quite twenty-one or home,

a harp-imprinted passport, in his rigamortis hand.

 

She spoke of his car

being found by a dog walker

on that cordite Connaught. border,
traces of explosives; her childhood
set ablaze in the shattering after blast

She talked of a sixteen year old brother,
defenceless, his arms pressed

to his stunned face as he stood, cornered,

counting the stones of Bennett's Corner Shop
as if it were the Milltown he’d reach all too soon.

Of the bullet that broke his skull.
Herself, a child still,

desperate to comfort him,
praying, peeling off the glued bandage
to see only cloudy nerves of brain
.

She talked of being engaged:
the clear Andytown air,
Christmas, an estate, proud in painted murals,
how she glimpsed car light flash
a brief second until time fused like a trip wire.

 

And she was blind; could feel nothing
but chunks of imploded windscreen, shattered dashboard
and his December breath cold against her cheek.
She’d heard the whir of car wheels
but no glass-sharp scream from his supple lips.

 

Reviews

[Donald Meikle]

Way to tell Sel. The shocking reality of it all painted in flashing pictures of despair

[[untitled]]

Breath-taking writing. I am just stunned. I love your work. You have such talent. I wish you all the very best. Bethlynne. - btw - this gets 100 from me.

[Emily B]

What a heart-wrenching story. Beyond sad, beyond senseless violence. These were brothers and fiances, they weren't supposed to go away. This was just a girl, she wasn't supposed to see and watch and know. This is such a brilliant write, I think I'm still halfway holding my breath.

[Pema Dorje]

I held my breath through this starkly beautiful writing. I'm left conflicted that such beautiful imagery tells such a story of our all too human plight. Yet the story teller exists to prod and remind us of our all too human miseries and how history repeats ... writeous write Sel ...

[Nan]

The last strophe in this is incredible, but you do have a talent for endings.
Did you know that? Maybe it's me but the glimpses of these three lads seem
to be blur and I can only sense that you wanted it that way. It must have been the
the manner in which she told you the story, or how you perceived it in your heart.

You tell the story from that perspective even though it sheds a bit
of terror upon us. Beautiful Sel, thanks for sharing

Nan

[TAYLOR]

beautiful writing...after reading something like this i am wordering why am i on this site trying to write...but a novice i am reading works like these i amy be able to sharpen my skills...fantastic work...Taylor

[Gandré]

absolutely fantastic writing darling Sel. So brilliant you are. i will come to this later. i just will do tomorrow as late for me - i want to review it.
thx for taking time and reading me.