Fleeing from Meath to Mayo

her betrothed gave chase,

she turned to face him, ask

what he loved about her,

‘your eyes’ came in ardent reply

so she plucked them out

each a perfect orb

cool in her hands like beads

and in horror he fled.

She stood there smiling

surprising even herself

relief rushed down her limbs,

she bent over the well,

splashed her face

and those hollow sockets

with scent of mineral and moss,

sight restored in a flash.

She looked at the world

as if for the first time,

she could finally see

how her God was always

on the side of freedom,

how everything glistens,

and how we must risk everything,

trust we were meant

for this, as if telling

the truth for the first time,

as if our hearts

had been plucked out too

and set ablaze

for all the world to see.