dedalus Posted March 24, 2013 Share Posted March 24, 2013 I’ll be going down to New York town to meet my love, my sweet young man, who has worked so hard to make our home away across the broad Atlantic. I must take a step away from friends, from relations, from my weeping mother, who will never see me again. My father spits silently in the fire and I know how he feels. I am sorry (I am not sorry) for I wish to get away and live a life away from Ireland, for Ireland beautiful and grand as it is, truly, crushes the hearts of its downtrodden women. And I am not and never will be a downtrodden woman. I read books, some of which I understand, and some of which I don’t, but never mind, I am a proud and nervous nationalist. Ireland looms out of the darkness. It sits there, balefully, in the wide Atlantic Sea. Aviators say thanks, Christ God, land at last, a place we can crash or land upon. As did Alcock and Brown in Clifden in 1919 long before Lucky Lindbergh. It’s there. Land at last, the farmhouses and the fields, waiting to welcome or kill you. Ireland is a place we all want to leave or stay in forever. I will take this ship called Titanic. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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