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.