HERSTORY by Maighread Medbh	well, we mightn't wear red linen skirts or knitted shawls on our backs we mightn't spout the Gaeilge or shout out 'come all yes' at the drop of a hat but most of us remember all of that n how our mothers walked five or six miles home from a dance on dark oul roads or over the mountains barefoot in the summers that were always warm n a lot of us remember with our broad, strong hips how the children came n how they were diedled on the knee n with a swing of our shoulders n a strutting backside we're sharp n swift n ready for a roll n the ones that love us say we're as soft as our rain n as biting as our rain n we're like how the long grass sways before it turns to gold n they say, those people, that we turn to gold too n indeed we do n indeed we do well, we mightn't look any different from the wans across the water n we might buy our jumpers in Marks 'n Sparks but when it comes to craic we know how to make the sparks rise from our feet n our smiles n it's no accident that a lot of us are mad, generous, over-spending hoors we remember, one way or another, what the poor feel like n we're filling our stomachs with the cravings of the wans that cried who's to know, we say, what might happen between this n christmas? we remember it all we remember it all there's many a woman here with colours bright enough to strike the eye half blind you'll see her walking strong n light along the street or working hard n physical like her one-time mothers who lifted tankards n churned butter n brought up twelve children with one hand tied you might think we're all like Americans now that Europe says it's one but these women / they never died not through sword attack nor hunger attack not through rape nor beating not through penal law nor Roman law not through their own brave revolutions when they carried guns n used them not through time n not out of song n rhyme they never died no they never died.
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