‘Particle of light through a raindrop’ by Afric McGlinchey
If houses are lifted up and dropped, like crystal,
then shards cutting through memory.
If the cat swims, ears and nose above water,
then arms reaching to rescue.
If you hold my hand, though I feel it empty,
then rain, landing on earth and soaking it anyway.
If sun bursts from the sky, un-bedding the fog,
then, without coat, without hat, armour for a new journey.
From issue 2: spring/summer 2016
About the Author
Afric McGlinchey’s awards include a Hennessy Poetry Award, Northern Liberties Poetry Prize (USA), Poets Meet Politics Prize and a Faber Academy Fellowship. She is the author of two collections, The Lucky Star of Hidden Things (2012) and Ghost of the Fisher Cat (2016).
