for Julie McClure
This morning, light spilled into the courtyard
like God had opened a window.
The light is quiet and can’t be herded
from dormitory beds to morning mass –
it shines where it wants,
blushing the stained glass windows,
washing the priest’s words.
My mother doesn’t write.
It’s been three years. My hands
crack from the heat of the sheets
as we feed them through the mangle.
The high windows admit one square
of light, on the word repent
and I am silent like the sunlight.
© Jessica Traynor
Stanhope St women to get assistance
Jessica Traynor is a Dublin poet. Her poems have appeared in Southword, the SHOp, the Moth and the Stinging Fly. She has won the Listowel Poetry Prize. Her blog is jessicatraynor.wordpress.com