featured post

Open for submissions

The 2017 WH prize mug I’m looking forward to reading your stories each day, and seeing which ones come to the fore early on, and if they...

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Some woman's yellow hair

Has maddened every mother's son



Niamh. How I yearn for Tir na n'Og. The breast. The shoulder. The fair shoulder. But I had to return to Ireland, and wear a thousand years. The myth of guilt was stronger than the myth of love. Are you still there, in Tir na n'Og, are you waiting?

Ossian

No comments: