(The genesis of this poem was the recent Washington Post news article by Terrence McCoy regarding the skeletal remains of eight hundred children found at a home for unwed mothers in Ireland. I was so haunted by the description of this discovery that I was moved to write a memorial poem. When I wrote this, it was with the intent and hope to find a wider audience to honor the memory of these children and the pain of their mothers.)
No marker,
no grave,
just bones upon bones.
The clavicles, crumbling
fractured femurs,
so many silent skulls.
But once brave
was this dust in the darkness.
The tiny spines,
barely born or malformed,
the lucky ones
who died before
they could know
who they were not,
where they could never go.
And others, whose mothers
tried, but in the end
had no recourse,
left them, their bones to bleach
in the carrion care
of meager hearts.
Perhaps they lived to toddle
on bowed and stunted legs;
felt sun, smelled grass,
some small morsel of life allowed
before they too
were tossed into that pile,
lost to the limestone.
The hardiest lived longer still,
sent to school in orphan’s rags, marginalized.
Ostracized, their tired, but not yet
vacant eyes, searching,
until fever or seizure or plague
allowed the soul to shed the bones and skin.
But someone
gazed into that face,
threw the child
into that place
a cistern, stinking
of feces and moldering flesh,
where no bell tolled.
Were no words spoken?
Was the poor mother there to say a silent goodbye
with ashen tongue,
long gone the days of keening?
While the teacher, the town,
the church, stood as stolid
as the castle looking down.
Mute, no care, nor testament given
to those born behind the wall
and dying, one by one, unknown.
Until now.
Mourn eight hundred faces
who knew little but the night.
Call out eight hundred names.
Maeve, Ryan, Molly, Aiden.
Create a columbarium,
in memory and heart.
Look unflinching at the carnage,
sing each child into the light.
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Apprentice Editor: Brandie Smith/Editor: Catherine Monkman
Photo: Janos Csongor Kerekes/Flickr Creative Commons
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