Yesterday I knew no lullaby
But you have taught me overnight to order
This song, which takes from your final cry
Its tune, from your unreasoned end its reason;
Its rhythm from the discord of your murder,
Its motive from the fact you cannot listen.
We who should have known how to instruct
With rhymes for your waking, rhythms for your sleep
Names for the animals you took to bed,
Tales to distract, legends to protect,
Later an idiom for you to keep
And living, learn, must learn from you, dead.
To make our broken images rebuild
Themselves around your limbs, your broken
Image, find for your sake whose life our idle
Talk has cost, a new language. Child
Of our time, our times have robbed your cradle.
Sleep in a world your final sleep has woken.
“Child of Our Time”, Eavan Boland
Welcome! My name is Sara Daniele and I’ll shortly be traveling to Ireland and the Scottish Isles as a Robert Pinsky Global Fellow in Poetry. This will be a place for me to document my adventures. I’m a writer, artist, and musician originally from Albuquerque, New Mexico, and plan to fill this blog with beautiful things.