Sinéad Nic Síoda studied English, Theatre and Film at Swansea Metropolitan University; graduating as a Bachelor of Arts in 2002. She was a Secondary level school Teacher of English, in the UK until 2010,before returning to her place of birth in Co Clare, where she now runs The Record Break Café and Arts venue, in Ennis, Co Clare.
An Irish Forest
‘Cross cold river Fergus, old fallen tree
Unearthed in grief tears of Loughnagowan
Gushing past tangled stems strangling green lily,
Rooted, heaps torn, is this where we belong?
Duped with a warm embrace from Samhradh sun?
His decorous robe’s floating graceful down
Dressing tree tops, upon good men fled, run.
Those fires stay blazing ’til shadows scorn.
Sun stoops low in skies, Blackened boughs, burnt trees.
‘Til night’s cold hand intensifies alarm.
Lost Mother tongue.
Her voice is empty, hollow, hindered, harmed.
Ancient Oaks stumped silent.
Irish forest, ancestral truth curtailed.
Ravaged, fallen by the River, roots twisted
Stretching away from the earth hostile,
Violated by storms sad submissive,
Subservient lying half dead a while,
Road for armoured armies of ants hurrying,
Stays isolated outside clique insect culture
You your own social being not worrying
Stump, store fed by friends, no human vulture..
Like business men and politician hell
Pushing and shoving, ruling with fat ego,
Community spirits alive and well
Your innate wisdom and the waters flow,
I came here as city greed exhausts me
Much like gale force winds force the fall of trees.