Mise Liom Fein (Irish Roughly Translated: I Am Alone)

• Niamh Loader, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2013

Black mud fills her palms,
the pale skin, from which,
fingers like twigs protrude.
A stench pervades the air,
rising from the fields.
Disgusted, she tries in vain
to shut it out, while in her brain,
the words repeat.
'Mise liom fein.'

Her hair, a tangled rope,
straggles in knots down
her hunger wasted back,
as she writhes, like the devil's
hand grips her soul.
His words inside her head,
her mouth hard with strain,
releases broken words
'Mise liom fein.'