I see my mind as a tapestry woven through with memories, dreams and thoughts.

Sunday, 2 October 2011

Sunday Snippet

Still in 'Ireland frame of mind' (although I am now in England, visiting) I used to work with travellers and am leaving you this poem today and another on Monday:

Wash Day

"Cindy can't read
and that's a fact,"
says Cindy standing
out over the tub
washing away
the days at school
so different from
familiar days at home -
minding bairns,
sweeping out the trailer,
helping ma -
scrubbing fiercely at
each taunt, each cruel name,
each moment of discrimination,
confidence ebbing,
suds slopping
and sinking
into dark gravel;
"No, Cindy can't read."

Ann Sharples

2 comments:

linda said...

brilliant and sad and so true and your sheep, so sweet. xoxox

Spangle said...

This poem is really sad but seeing as you have had an insight in the traveller's world, it's very true.

Great piece.