The Hag of Beara Ireland

While in Ireland I was inspired to write a poem about a most amazing woman, The Hag of Beara. Now a stone I devoted a full month to creating an installation performance piece at the Burren College of Art to her. Here is the poem I wrote.

Ahh yes, I have a story

Beauty crystallized



forced to stagnate alive within this hideous stone form

Does it shock you to know I am alive?

I wither forced to hide alone   frozen

A hard granite shell merged with skin

So yes, I feel your pathetic pawing

And yet I remain invisible to you

Impervious to my shudders   Your hands like a boxers punch rest heavily upon my chest

tears brushed aside as sea foam

Let my cold body meet the sun’s warmth

Within beats a powerful rhythm

such an ugly lump of stone

Marrow bleeds and whispers

Darkness dances with damp decay

Branches grow thick with soft moss

can a heart break that no longer exits?

can visions cloud and clear or awaken only to death?

the wild Atlantic roars pounding the shore

foam forbidden fingers grasp for what is no longer there for he too has been banished

The god of the sea forbidden from reaching the rocky shore

His pain causes the sea to swell

if only this time

I no longer carry the scent of the sea

This rock coffin hides Sapphires and emeralds

a prison of stone fragile and dead

Yet, memories arise stories walk the island

A young and beautiful powerful warrior maiden gifted with powers beyond any mortal

An acrid sea salt scent gliding on the breeze

I am both beautiful and terrifying

Sea weed grasps for my ankles, thorns draw blood

darkness drips sheets of ruby

Dripping in rhythm I fall under a spell

Ghost of what was of all that had been

Lost words tangle in my hair twisting changing directions lifting and falling

Dripping ceases all sound

A soul shelter       Death                   is this how I recover?

I have grown old   Old,     no ancient ,

Yet I dance as a youth upon the cold damp sand

Shells open in anticipation dying as they huddle close

Mumble prayers to clouds

Wind whispers a command,” Tell me of your fears, tell me of your cares.”

Sea scented winds Head held high I enter the sea     wild waves entwine me   scrub me clean   until I once again am young and beautiful

Merely an echo

Howling winds dance in my ears repeating broken phrases

repeating broken words trapped in timeless moments

Seashells hide reason and thought no desire to be exposed to light

safe without a voice      Safe now                           Silent

Dying story written on decaying leaves

Secrets succumb

Words trapped in time mumble

Do not separate what belongs together

Desiccated corpses flounder

I want not your plastic baubles     I want to sore free

Rushing into the sea ice awakening my dead heart

The audacity   believing this granite entraps my soul

Do not be fooled by harsh cold wind   it is I

Ride the wind across the ocean searching lips give voice to my story

Past rests in the sand to blur all vision

A mix of wind and sand burning as if memory itself was not enough

gripped tightly in the fist of time, form and color alter, dust, no other worlds.

One wonders as the waves swell and the sea crashes only to appear as calm, is he awake?

Does he too stumble knowing not the night?

Anchored here as the Hag of Beara

Cover me with the sea and I shall once again be free.



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