Conference tallis::celt

997.0. "Poetry by Irish Republican Women." by WREATH::DROTTER () Mon Feb 10 1992 11:49

    Editor's Note.

    I have just returned from Derry, Northern Ireland after spending 10 days
there. I returned to Derry, sadly, to partake in a week long commemoration of
the murder of 14 civil rights marchers by the British Army on Jan. 30, 1972 -
what has now become known to the people of Ireland as "Bloody Sunday."
Living in Ireland at the time, I went to Derry 20 years ago, shortly after the
massacre, to see for myself, firsthand, what was going on. I have been back
several times since then.

    It's hard to believe it's been 20 years on, and yet, the only "solutions"
the British government has come up with (what should really be an IRISH
solution for an IRISH problem) are a known, shoot-to-kill policy, and
Diplock courts to enforce their meat-grinder 'justice" system.
         
    For the Irish nationalist people living in the artificially created state
called, "Northern Ireland,"  the last 23 years have been a living Hell, where
death and destruction occur Every Day. The struggle by Irish women and Irish
men to free themselves from Britian's colonial oppression, (after Hong Kong
is returned to the Chinese in 1997, Ireland will be Britain's *Last* colony),
has created a lost generation of women and men, who have known nothing but
oppression, brutality, and injustice.

   Yet, having visited this British-backed, artificially-created Hell on earth,
the one word I walk away with after staying with the women and men of Derry
is - Resilience. The more the jack-boot of British oppression comes down on
these people, the more they are determined to be free.

   Believe me, the additional burden of an ongoing war of 23 years, that
the women of Derry have had to endure, has created a powerful sisterhood,
unlike anywhere else I've ever seen. When it comes to being strong, the
women of Derry wrote the book.

         


                           Voices Against Oppression
                           -------------------------

                             A Collection of Poems
                                      by
                        The Republican Women Prisoners,
                         Maghaberry and Durham (N.I.)
                                 
                              - October 1991 -




INTRODUCTION.

   The following collection of poems were written by women Republican
prisoners in Maghaberry and Durham gaols (jails). Some of the poems were
written by individual prisoners, while others were collectively penned by
women who participated in poetry workshops within the gaols.

   The poems reflect the strong bond of sisterhood and comradship that exists
between the women prisoners. In "Comrades" and "Thoughts of You," they fondly
remember friends and comrades who have fought and died in the struggle for Irish
Freedom. Other poems like "Woman" and "The Abused" identify the suffering and
pain inflicted against women by the gender divisions and inequalities in
society.

   This small booklet is more than just a collection of poems. It sends an
emotionally charged message of resistance and support to its readers.


  Is Mise, (Ed. note: Irish, short for "Is Mise le meas" literally,
            "My self, with respect.")

  Irene Sherry 


  Sinn Fein Women's Dept.




                               RESISTANCE

      They took us by force
      and tied us with oppression.
      They divided us with bigotry
      and their necessary class system.
      They thought they could bury us,
      pre-meditated genocide
      kill off our culture, our feelings, our pride.
      But out of their hell
      we have arisen
      to fight in a war to rescue our nation
      They thought we were gone, buried alive,
      but, like the phoenix we have survived.




                             TO MUM AND DAD

      You pinned all your hopes on me,
      wanted me to take every opportunity
      you asked me with words unspoken,
      to realise those dreams you've been nurturing
      I tried to do my best for you
      make you proud and love me too.
      But somewhere along that prosperous flight
      I found my own dreams and wrongs to right.
      I witnessed oppression, greed and fear
      a terrible corruption present here.
      I couldn't turn and walk away
      look after myself in some arrogant way
      nor could I bury my head in the sand
      let others fight for this beautiful land
      this war must be waged by everyone
      if the endless damage is to be undone.
      You look at me now with pain-filled eyes
      and all your hurt can't be disguised
      I know you feel I've betrayed your love
      thrown back those years and all you've done
      but you taught me well of bad and good
      and all those lessons I've understood
      it's that principle of standing by my beliefs
      that has led to my imprisonment, but sadly your grief.




                       COMPASSION
                      
      Hate filled eyes
      and gleeful smiles
      eight pairs of hands pulling clothes
      pulling hair and tearing flesh
      pulling legs apart
      to search between.
      Does my struggle add to your fun?
      my resistance give you pleasure?
      this degradation and humiliation does not
      make you flinch
      you do not react to my screams
      where is humanity? your dignity?
      your shame?
      as you degrade
      you and I
      and all of womanhood
      by this disgusting act.



                                      
                       ALONE

      By yourself, alone with your dread
      but not for long
      you had the company
      eight in all
      held you down
      we couldn't hear you
      calling for us
      each individually
      but we share
      we share your anger
      although spared
      the degradation
      this time,
      each of us
      individually
      comfort you
      our comradeship
      consoling you
      each of our hands
      make a fist
      showing our white knuckles
      our strength
      and our sisterhood.




                       WOMAN

      See the woman hurting deeply
      each in her own way
      bears the pain
      then she learns to share the pain.
      Through violent eyes
      he can't see you as anything
      other than his plaything
      but watch the new woman emerge
      growing strength loosens his grip
      her inner transformation
      challenges his power
      and robs him of control.
      Watch this new woman
      no longer does she bear his misery
      see her stand strong and proud.           




                       VOLUNTEERS

      We are Volunteers
      we are not paid
      our cause we believe in
      the capture we dread.
      We are Volunteers
      we stand side by side
      against the might
      of the imperialist tide.
      We are Volunteers
      seeking to build one race
      to establish equality
      in capitalism's place.
      We are Volunteers
      many teachers we've known
      Connolly, Pearse
      Marx and Tone.
      We are Volunteers
      with no inhibitions
      we fight on alone
      in the Republican tradition.



                       CAPTURE

      Sickening sound of thudding boots,
      hasty orders, urgent shouts.
      Blinding lights, panicked thoughts
      choking realization, she's been caught.

      Gripping arms, hate-filled eyes,
      insulting comments and gloating smiles.
      clanging metal, restraining clutch,
      inside numbness can't be touched.

      Heavy blows, down she slides.
      Deafening questions, demand replies.
      Quiet strength comes from within,
      she'll be silent she will win.




                       THE ABUSED

      Screaming, beating, words of scorn
      bruised and aching she stood forlorn
      gone again a while from her life
      he leaves behind the battered wife.
      So many nights she stands accused
      with excuses he justifies abuse.
      So many days she tries to disguise
      the swollen face and blackened eyes.
      Family and friends stare in disbelief
      as her suffering remains buried underneath.
      Wishing, hoping for strength anew
      completely powerless - who can she turn to?
      Always waiting for the turn of the key
      what will the 'reason' for this beating be?
      Robbed of pride and self respect
      the beatings no longer have effect
      this treatment she continues to take
      if only for the children's sake.
      She thinks not of the days ahead
      of future wounds that will be bled
      she's waiting until the children leave
      in a better future: she must believe.




                       REFLECTIONS

      Woman of many pieces; reflections
      upon overshadowed images.
      In the pool of life I am the
      outer circle, starting from its core
      and touched by each ripple to
      determine my entity.
      Do you see what I see?
      Sometimes the pool transforms
      into an obstacle course -
      unwanted.
      Have patience with my monthly
      brain storms
      which can breed a red alert, danger-zone mind, and
      we will laugh about this later.                




                       FROM EVE

      From the rib of Adam she was formed
      and from that hour she had but mourned
      mourned the injustice in her life
      made to accept the role of wife
      man's object for him to abuse
      never allowed to air her views
      always expected to tend and care
      would she rebel - should she dare
      but new ideas were looming near
      and misconceptions began to clear
      "Woman you are no less than man
      redeem your pride and make a stand"
      so woman continues and still she fights
      to gain equality and assert her rights.




                       THOUGHTS OF YOU....

       It's not always so easy
       when the road ahead is cloudy
       and we stumble on our path....
       then victory seems so far away.

       When I need it
       I draw strength from thoughts
       of you and what you gave
       that we might carry on and win.
       And the questions give way to answers
       and despair gives way to hope
       at those times I think of you
       how you gave your very lives
       then victory seems so near....




                       COMRADES

       Comrades,
       keep us within the quiet and gentleness of your hearts
       and cover us with the same strength and courage you showed,
       when you left us
       to cry
       and to mourn your loss beneath smiles
       and looks of determination
       which we didn't feel at the time,
       some of you we knew - some we didn't
       and still we all felt the pain,
       hidden inside as it continues.

       Comrades,
       Instill in us that same unfailing resolve
       which we need when despair and despondency engulf us,
       and threaten us,
       where else are we to turn to?
       Except to memories of your smiles and better days
       which we shared in our semblance of nornality,
       rising above the hurt and heartache
       we felt at your parting,
       and still we feel the pain,
       hidden inside as it continues.




                       WHO IS FREE?

       Woman tell me what you're doing here amid all this confusion and fear
       Weren't you happy once when you were free, or do my images
       betray my naivety.
       I've watched you grow as time stole away your youth misplacing
       it with your own misguided sense of truth.
       Yet you seem almost happy but how can that be
       aren't you the one imprisoned and I'm the one that's free
       Free to see your people engaged in such a war, that claims
       their children, youth and much, much more
       Free to see the pain and suffering reflected in their eyes as
       helplessly they watch another loved one die
       And then there's the searches that go on every day, the homes
       that aew wrecked and reduced to clay
       And still in your strange way you seem almost free
       yet you're the woman behind the door and I'm the one with the key.

  Thankyou for posting this Joe.  With your permission
  I would like to post your article on soc.culture.celtic

                          Mark