EILAN N CHUILLEANIN POETRY

The Second Voyage

Line by Line
Odysseus
Odysseus is a hero from Greek mythology. King of the island of Ithaca, he was a skilled and brave
warrior. Yet he was also well known for his intelligence and quick wittedness, and often used cunning rather
than brute force to defeat his foes. Odysseus was a leader of the Greek army that laid siege to the great city
of Troy. Finally, after ten years of bitter warfare, the city fell to its attackers.
After Troys destruction, Odysseus returned home. His journey back to Ithaca was an eventful one.
He was shipwrecked several times and was taken prisoner more than once. For ten years he wandered, lost
upon the ocean, visiting many strange and magical islands.
Eventually, after an incredible series of setbacks and adventures, he made it back to Ithaca and his
family. Yet once home he had another challenge to face. During his twenty-year absence his palace had been
taken over by a band of suitors, each of whom hoped to marry his wife Penelope and take the kingdom of
Ithaca for himself.
Odysseus looks at the ocean
This poem is set during Odysseuss epic voyage back to his homeland of Ithaca. He seems to be
alone aboard a small craft. Line 13 suggests that he has recently been shipwrecked. Perhaps, therefore, we
find him piloting a barge or lifeboat he has used to escape the wreckage of a greater vessel.
He takes a break from rowing and studies the ocean. The sea is simmering, suggesting the water is
choppy and turbulent. The waves are said to mince past his vessel, flowing in what strikes him as a prim or
dainty fashion. Yet they are also compared to crocodiles, suggesting they are deceptive, dangerous and can
strike at any moment with deadly force.
He looks into the oceans seaweed-filled depths but cannot tell how deep it really is: where scribbles
of weed defined/Uncertain depth. He does, however, make out shoals of slim fishes swimming by in fatal
formation.
The identical waves
To Odysseus the waves all look identical. They have, he says, less character than sheep, possessing
no distinguishing features, nothing to set them apart from one another. Each wave, he thinks, has had a
battering. Each has travelled over the oceans surface, crashing into various objects. Yet this battering has
left them with no distinguishing features; they are not ridged/ or pocked or dented.
Odysseus fantasises about the waves possessing such distinguishing features and individual
personalities. We could actually give the waves names: we could name them as Adam named the beasts.
We could recognise individual waves as they approached and respond to them according to their nature and
their character.
He imagines being dismayed by the appearance of a new one, by the emergence of yet another wave
to drive him all over the oceans surface. He imagines greeting a notorious or deadly wave with the
admiration of one warrior saluting another. He even imagines waves gloating at the fact that he has been
shipwrecked: theyd notice us passing/And rejoice at our shipwreck.

Odysseus imagines leaving the ocean behind
Odysseus, then, is utterly weary of the ocean. He is fed up of navigating from one island to the next,
of being shipwrecked, of being blown hither and thither on the oceans surface. After voyaging so long the
very sight of the waves fills him with disgust. He decides to leave the ocean behind forever, to moor his boat
once and for all: I know what Ill do he said; / Ill park my ship in the crook of a long pier. He imagines
turning his back on the ocean and walking up a hillside: Ill face the rising ground and walk away. He
imagines waking on an on, travelling up riverbeds and Over gaps in hills. He would leave the tidal
waters of the ocean and of river mouths far behind.
Odysseus imagines carrying his oar with him on this hike: And Ill take you with me, he said to the
oar. Eventually, he would come to warm/ Silent valleys so far inland that their inhabitants know nothing
of the sea. He imagines meeting a farmer so unfamiliar with the ocean that he mistakes the oar for some kind
of fan.
At this point Odysseus would have travelled as far away from the ocean as he is ever likely to get.
He imagines pausing for a while on this very spot, as if he is savouring his distance from the sea: There I
will stand still. He imagines driving the oar into the ground where it would serve as a gatepost or a/
hitching-post. This seems to be a symbolic act, an emblem of his determination to never sail again.
Yet its as if even this far inland Odysseus could not feel fully free of the ocean. He imagines leaving
the oar as a tidemark, a device used by the shore to measure the highest level reached by the tide. We sense
hed fear that the sea levels might rise and flood even this valley, which is presently so very far inland.
The phrase I can go back/And organise my house then is open to several interpretations. Perhaps Odysseus
is fantasising about returning to Ithaca and now imagines organising his house by ousting the suitors,
regaining control of his kingdom and sorting out its affairs. Or perhaps hes fantasising about resigning from
his journey home altogether, about taking refuge far inland on some random island and organising or
preparing a little house for himself there.
The harsh reality of Odysseuss situation
Yet all this is only fantasy. In reality, Odysseus is still aboard his little craft, drifting on the oceans
surface: But the profound/ Unfenced valleys of the ocean still held him. The water all around him still
sizzles and crackles with turbulence: The sea was still frying under the ships side. He has only his oar to
keep himself safe and out of the waves clutches: He had only the oar to make them keep their distance.
Trapped in this nightmarish situation, Odysseus finds himself thinking of how water is inescapable, of how
it fills the whole world. He thinks of various waterways: a black canal on which pale swans float and flat
lakes are overgrown with rushes. He also remembers smaller or less significant instances of water flowing: a
fountain in a city square, horse troughs, a kettle being filled. He even remembers muddy trickles of water by
a roadside, nearby which frogs and spiders made their homes. Odysseus becomes filled with despair at his
situation, at his present shipwrecked state, at the torment of the endless nature of his journey home. He
begins to weep in misery and frustration: His face grew damp with tears that tasted/ Like his own sweat or
the insults of the sea.
The fact that the tears taste of sweat suggests the intense labour Odysseus has undertaken during
his journey, the shipwrecks, the sailing, the fighting before the walls of Troy. The fact they taste like the
insults of the sea suggests the rage and frustration he feels at the length of his journey home. He seems to
feel like the oceans plaything, toyed with by the waves as they send him hither and thither and laugh at his
misery. Its as if he can sense the oceans bitter mockery in his own tears salty taste. We leave him there,
sobbing as his little craft drifts onwards at the waves mercy.
Metaphor and Simile
The Second Voyage is a poem distinguished by N Chuilleanins typically inventive use of metaphor:
The foaming tops of the waves are compared to ruffled foreheads.
The waves are also compared to crocodiles, suggesting their danger and ferocity: the waves/
Crocodiling and mincing past.
This metaphor is extended when Odysseus slips his oar into the water. N Chuilleanin compares this
action to ramming his oar into the crocodiles jaws.
Water flowing from a pump is said to form a see-through tube shape, similar to the piece of
confectionery known as a sugarstick.
Using a fine simile, N Chuilleanin compares a fountain in a market place to a willow tree. We can
imagine how the wide, downward curves of water issuing from the fountain might resemble the
willows bent-over branches.
N Chuilleanin uses several brilliant metaphors to describe the ocean. She mentions its profound or
deep Unfenced valleys, and we can imagine how the oceans wave-tossed surface might be said to
resemble a landscape of peaks and valleys. Its turbulence, meanwhile, is captured when N Chuilleanin
compares it to cooking oil, describing how it is sizzling and frying under Odysseuss ship. The twisted
strands of seaweed floating in its waters are imaginatively compared to scribbles.
Personification
This poem is also notable for its unusual use of personification. Odysseus thinks of the waves as if they were
living beings with minds of their own. He accuses them of lacking a single/ Streak of decency and of
having less character than sheep. He views the waves as conformists, suggesting that they lack the dignity,
character and personality to differ from one another. The sea is also personified in the poems last line,
which refers to the insults of the sea. This line suggests the sea is deliberately frustrating Odysseuss
homeward journey, and mocking or insulting him as it does so.


Tone
Odysseuss tone throughout this piece is one of despair, disgust and resignation. He comes across as weary
of his travels, of his frustrating and constantly interrupted journey home. He is heartily sick of the ocean and
its monotonous wavy landscape. The poem arguably shifts to a more hopeful tone in its middle when
Odysseus imagines leaving the ocean behind and hiking inland. Yet the tone becomes despairing once more
at the poems conclusion, when Odysseus is reminded of the harsh reality he faces.
Themes
Isolation
This poem is a powerful study of isolation. According to legend, Odysseus set out for home with a
band of companions. Yet the bulk of his journey was made alone after his fellow sailors perished in various
shipwrecks and adventures. The Second Voyage vividly conveys the effects such a long and difficult
period of isolation can have on the human psyche.
The horror of isolation is evident in the despair that grips Odysseus as he contemplates the sea. He
has been alone on the ocean so long that the very sight of the waves fills him with disgust and horror. This is
particularly evident at the poems conclusion when Odysseus weeps in despair, his tears tasting Like his
own sweat or the insults of the sea. Odysseus longs to escape his watery isolation, to park his ship in a
pier, turn his back on the sea and walk away from it forever. We see this especially when he imagines
planting his oar as a gatepost and standing still in contemplation when having travelled as far away as
possible from the ocean and the shore.
The effects of isolation are also evident in the bizarre trains of thought his mind follows as he drifts
more or less powerlessly on the oceans surface.
He fantasises about the waves having individual personalities and characteristics, about them being
ridged and pocked from their travels, so that he could give each wave its own name and recognise
it when it approached.
He thinks of the waves as if they had minds of their own and accuses them of lacking the decency
to make an effort at being individual.
He speaks to his oar as if it were a person: Ill take you with me, Ill plant you. There is a sense in
which the oar has taken the place of his lost companions.
He fantasises about finding a valley so far inland no one knows anything about the ocean.
Yet even his fantasy is disturbed by the notion that the ocean might rise and flood even that most
inland-lying of valleys.
He is distressed by the perfectly normal and everyday thought that water is everywhere, from kettles
to canals, and that no matter how far he goes he cannot escape it.
Nature
This is a poem that also acknowledges natures darker side, specifically the monotony and danger of the sea.
Odysseus is a disgusted at the boring sameness of the oceans surface, is utterly fed up of the identical waves
with less character than sheep that pass him by. The poem also emphasises the danger posed by the ocean.
Odysseus, after all, has been shipwrecked. The turbulent sea of uncertain depth is sizzling and frying
beneath his little vessel. N Chuilleanin brilliantly captures the dangerous nature of the waves, describing
them as crocodiles with dangerous jaws. Odysseus has only an oar with which to keep himself from their
clutches: He had only the oar to make them keep their distance.
Desolation
Odysseus is greatly affected by the bleakness of the ocean, in particular by the monotonous appearance of
the waves that relentlessly pass his vessel by as he drifts on its desolate surface.
Imagery
Like many of N Chuilleanins poems The Second Voyage is rich in imagery. In particular, the poem
draws a powerful contrast between the land and sea, between the Unfenced valleys of the oceans surface
and the warm/ Silent valleys that exist inland. The harsh and monotonous seascape is contrasted with the
varied and more forgiving landscape of streams and valleys that exists far away from the ocean and
its tidal waters. Also notable are the seven vivid and very varied images of water that fill Odysseuss mind
at the poems conclusion.


EILAN N CHUILLEANIN POETRY
Translation:
Line by Line
The Magdalene laundries
The Magdalene laundries were a series of asylums that existed in Ireland throughout the nineteenth
and twentieth centurys. These institutions, administered by nuns, initially focused on prostitutes, or fallen
women. Yet girls who were viewed as troublesome, sexually promiscuous or mere overly flirtatious could
also find themselves committed. Other inmates had been raped, sexually abused, were unmarried mothers or
were mentally disabled
These asylums focused on penance rather than rehabilitation. Living conditions in many of them
were extremely tough, and the inmates worked long hours in harsh conditions, usually in laundries attached
to the institutions. The women were not officially prisoners yet leaving the asylums was not easy. Many
women remained in the laundries for years, decades, or even for their entire lives.
This poem relates to a particular incident that took place in 1993. An order of Dublin nuns sold a
portion of their land to a developer, who intended to build apartments on the site. His workmen found the
remains of 155 women, all former Magdalene inmates, buried in unmarked graves on the convent grounds.
The womens remains were eventually cremated and reburied in Glasnevin cemetery. N Chuilleanin read
this poem at the reburial ceremony. The last Magdalene laundry closed in 1996.
Reburial in Glasnevin
The poet describes earth in Glasnevin cemetery. The gravediggers have been busy. Soil has been
frayed, or loosened, in preparation for the womens reburial. It has been sifted, or sieved, by the
gravediggers forks and spades as they prepared the new resting place for these unknown women.
The poet remarks how the gravediggers work has evened the score for the poor Magdalenes. Their
honourable reburial today makes up to some extent for the indignity of being stashed and forgotten in an
unmarked grave.
The exact identities of the Magdalenes are unknown. Yet the poet assumes that among their number
are women from every county in Ireland. After all, women from every corner of the country served in the
laundry at one time or another.
The poet describes the Magdalenes as ridges under the veil of earth. Their reburial has left the
topsoil of their new resting place ridged and uneven. The poet imagines the Magdalenes shifting and
searching for their parents. She envisages the dusty remains of each woman somehow spreading through
the earth of the cemetery, seeking to make contact with the remains of family members that might be buried
there, too. The reburied Magdalenes are described as searching for their names. This suggests how they
lost their identities, having been abandoned by their families and the outside world. Indeed, many long-term
inmates were encouraged to become lay nuns, a process that involved taking a new name
The Magdalenes at work
The poet thinks of the Magdalenes years of confinement, imagining them at work in their laundry
room:
She imagines the stone drains around the edges of the room into which dirty water would
disappear.
She imagines how the steam rising from the sinks and the irons danced in the air and how it
slipped across the water in the sinks and drains.
She also imagines how the steam giggled. We are reminded here of the sizzling sound made when
steam rises from an ironing board, which might indeed resemble a snigger or a giggle.
She imagines water in the laundrys sinks draining away, leaving behind worn and dirty bars of soap
that resemble rotten teeth.
She imagines that every grasp seemed melted, summoning up the agony in the hands of these poor
women forced to scrub all day with cruelly hot water.
In one of the poems more complex phrases, the poet refers to how White light blinded and bleached
out/ The high relief of a glance. It is possible that N Chuilleanin has in mind a holy image here, perhaps a
statue or painting of the Virgin Mary that looks down on the Magdalenes at work from where it hangs high
above them on the laundry wall.
Yet the images paint has been whitened and bleached by the White light pouring through the windows
and presumably by the steam and chemicals rising from the sinks. Its glance has been blinded and now
offers the Magdalenes no relief or religious consolation.
A Magdalene speaks out
The poet imagines one of the Magdalenes speaking out all those years ago in the laundry, her voice
rising above the shuffle and hum of work: As if one voice/ Had begun, rising above the shuffle and
hum. We can imagine this outspoken Magdalene insisting on telling her own story, insisting that she is not
evil or fallen but an ordinary woman deserving of respect.
The poet imagines this particular Magdalene being empowered by her outburst. Her protest fills her
own mind with what seems to be joy, energy and confidence: Until every pocket in her skull blared with the
note. Yet we must remember that this is only in the poets imagination. We dont know in reality if any
Magdalenes spoke out in this way against their confinement.
Assisting the Magdalenes now
The poet calls on her listeners and readers to somehow help the reburied Magdalenes, to Assist them
now. She wants us to remember their plight, their confinement and the terrible treatment they received, and
to retell their story as best we can.
If we do so it will be As if that one Magdalene had indeed spoken out and told her story all those years ago
in the laundry. Using a fine simile, the poet describes how her voice would be as sharp, or as penetrating
and unignorable, as a babys cry. It will be as if the poets audience can hear her voice now in Glasnevin
cemetery.
N Chuilleanin imagines steam rising from the Magdalenes grave even as the grass takes root on that
freshly dug resting place. This is a strange and surreal image. For decades, Irish society condemned the
Magdalenes to work with steam day after day. The poet imagines that very steam returning to haunt us,
issuing up in great gusts from the Magdalenes grave.
What would the Magdalene say?
According to N Chuilleanin, the Magdalene would speak about language, about a specific idiom or set of
phrases that were used to hurt her throughout her life. The Magdalene here is probably referring to words
like fallen woman, whore and Magdalene itself, to words that branded her as something unworthy and
less than human. Words like this, she would say, affected her life like an evil spell. They were a parasite
that grew inside her. They covered her in a baked crust, of dirt or grime. Yet if we retell the Magdalenes
stories, if we remember the great wrong that was done them, perhaps in death their good names might be
restored. The Magdalene therefore describes how she might be washed clean of idiom, of the language
that hurt her, of how the dark spell of demeaning language has been lifted. The
Magdalene also describes how she has been washed clean of her temporary name, referring to the
fact that many long-term Magdalenes were encouraged to change their names in a manner resembling nuns.
The Magdalenes remains lie in the new grave, in earth sifted to dust. In death she seems to have
gained a measure of peace, she has managed to forget the injustices she suffered in life. Yet, as weve
seen, the poet imagines her and her fellow inmates rising in a great cloud of steam from the grave: I rise and
forget- a cloud over my time. This cloud of steam serves as a powerful symbol of Irelands great shame
with regard to the whole Magdalene affair and of the nations need to tell and retell their story.
Language:
Poems title
The poems title has several meanings. In one sense, the word translation refers to moving or
transferring something, reflecting how the remains have been transferred from unmarked graves to a proper
resting place in Glasnevin cemetery.
The title also, of course, refers to language itself. The language or idiom used to describe these
women must change. They must no longer be branded as prostitutes, sinners or fallen women. The word
translation can also mean transformation, suggesting that if we continue to discover, remember and retell
their stories, the Magdalenes can be transformed after their deaths from sinners into innocent victims.
Imagery
This poem is built on imagery rather than argument and contains a number of powerful and vivid
images: the frayed and sifted earth of the reburial place in Glasnevin, the Magdalenes remains shifting
under the soil as they seek to find the remains of their parents.
Perhaps most vivid of all, however, is the image of the Magdalenes hard at work in the steam-filled
laundry, surrounded by stone drains, steam and sinks with worn bars of dirty soap.



Themes:
The sorrow of history
Translation reveals N Chuilleanins deep concern with historys victims, with those who suffered
so cruelly in the past. It reminds us of the great hardships inflicted on the Magdalenes by the Irish Church
and state in years gone by.
We are reminded of how the Magdalenes were deprived of their freedom and had to endure terrible
working conditions, slaving away all day with rotten teeth of soap and boiling water. We are reminded of
how they lost their identities and in some cases even the names their families gave them. We are reminded
of how these poor women were considered so unworthy they were buried without dignity, their bodies
simply stashed away without ceremony or honours.
We are reminded, above all, of how the Magdalenes were scarred by the words used against them.
The words are described almost as weapons that ground down their minds and spirits: the edges of words
grinding against nature. They were branded as being unclean, as being fallen women or prostitutes. Such
words covered them like dirt, grew inside them like parasites, and controlled them like a spell.
Yet the poem also contains an element of hope or redemption. The honourable reburial of the
Magdalenes makes up at least in part for their appalling treatment. To some extent, at least, it evens the
score. We get a sense at the poems conclusion that now the Magdalenes lie in earth sifted to dust they
will at last find peace. We are left with the hope that they be able to rise and forget, to find peace in the
next life and leave behind the wrongs they endured in this one.
Memory
The poem emphasises the importance of memory. We can only assist the dead by telling their
stories: Allow us now to hear it. We must not allow them to be silenced in death as they were in life. For it
is only through this process of remembering and retelling that their good names can be restored and the
baked crust of insults that defined and tormented them be washed away.
The Magdalene, for this reason, describes herself at the poems conclusion as a cloud over my
time. For the story of what was allowed to take place in the laundries will darken the landscape of Irish
history and politics like a thick cloud of smoke or steam. We must continually remember their suffering and
ask why it was allowed to happen in the first place.
Death
Translation is an elegy, a poem of lament that honours those who have passed away. In this case,
she honours and respects the 155 Magdalenes being reburied in Glasnevin cemetery and by extension all the
thousands of other women who perished as inmates of these institutions over the centuries of their existence.
The poem also emphasises the importance of remembering the dead in a proper manner. It
emphasises the importance of keeping the story of the Magdalenes suffering alive. Yet it also stresses the
importance of a dignified burial. The poem laments the great wrong of the 155 Magdalenes being almost
casually cast into unmarked graves, and celebrates that they have received a proper reburial, memorial and
resting place.


















EILAN N CHUILLEANIN POETRY
Kilcash:
Line by Line
The death of Lady Iveagh
In Kilcash N Chuilleanin translates a Gaelic poem from the early nineteenth century. The poem
mourns the passing of Margaret Butler, also known as Lady Iveagh, who owned a great wooded estate
around Kilcash Castle in South Tipperary.
The poet clearly has great respect for the dead Lady Iveagh. He describes her as a woman who lived
with such honour and was heaped with praise by those who knew her. She was a woman of the greatest
nobility, of such standing that even earls came across oceans to pay her their respects.
The was written at a time when the people of Ireland suffered greatly under English rule. Particularly
resented were the Penal Laws, laws that all but banned the Catholic religion.
We get a sense in the poem that Lady Iveagh used her influence to protect the people of Kilcash from
the worst excesses of English domination. She also assisted in keeping the Catholic religion alive in Kilcash
and its surrounding areas. She sheltered priests and bishops in her home and organised semi-secret Masses
so that those living in the area could hear the sweet words of mass.
Now, however, Lady Iveagh is dead. None of her sons, daughters or other relatives have emerged to
run her household as nobly as she did and to act as protector of the local native Irish. Indeed, the estate has
been all but abandoned and has fallen into ruin: No word of Kilcash or its household. The familys bell,
were told, is silent now. This probably refers to the household bell which would have been rung to signal
that meals were prepared and to summon workers from the fields.
The destruction of Kilcashs forests
The poet laments the loss of Kilcashs woods, which after Lady Iveaghs death were sold to the
English government and chopped down. The estates great trees have been felled and their timber shipped
off to England: What will we do now for timber/ With the last of the woods laid low.
The decay of Kilcashs grounds
The poet laments how since Lady Iveaghs death Kilcashs grounds have been allowed fall into ruin:
Its neat gates have been knocked down.
Its avenue has been neglected and is now completely overgrown.
Its smooth wide lawn has been broken.
The long walks through the estate no longer afford any shade because the trees have all been cut
down.
Its beehives, once presumably maintained by Lady Iveagh and her staff, have been neglected: Their
wax and their honey store deserted.
Once Lady Iveaghs horses grazed on the estates paddock. But those fine creatures are gone. Only
cows graze there now: The paddock has turned to a dairy.
The taming of Kilcashs people
The people of the estate and its surrounding areas, too, have become depressed. It seems that
without Lady Iveaghs protection they have been tamed by their English overlords. Now they are only fit
to be pitied. According to the poet, even the deer that roam the surrounding hillsides feel sorry for them.
An atmosphere of mourning
The poet describes the weird, almost supernatural conditionthat hold sway in Kilcash now, as if
nature itself were lamenting Lady Iveaghs death. The estates streams have all run dry. A strange mist
fills the estate that no sunlight can burn off or sweep aside. It becomes dark all of a sudden in the middle
of the day: Darkness falls among daylight.


Themes
Death
The great Lady Iveagh has passed away to join the souls of the faithful departed, leaving those who lived
under her protection lost and devastated: Its people depressed and tamed/ And their names with the faithful
departed/ The Bishop and Lady Iveagh. The poem is a powerful lament for this great woman who lived
with such honour that even earls crossed the ocean to visit her.
Desolation
We have seen how in the wake of Lady Iveaghs death the estate crumbled into ruin, so much so that
the poet presents it as a nightmarish place of eerie silence, where streams have run dry and darkness falls in
the middle of the day. The house and its gardens are desolate now. Its gates, its walkways, its avenues, its
lawns all have crumbled into ruin. Yet the greatest sense of desolation comes from the destruction of the
forests that once filled this greatest of estates: the last of the woods laid low. The poet laments how
Kilcashs varied and abundant resources have been replaced by bare naked rock.
Sorrow of history
Kilcash is a powerful study of historical suffering, detailing the oppression endured by the Irish people in
the eighteenth century. The poem reminds us of how Ireland, like many colonies, was stripped of its natural
resources by its colonisers, its precious woodlands being chopped down and shipped off to England. As the
poet regretfully asks: What will we do now for timber.
The poem reminds us of how for two centuries the Irish were prevented from practising their own
religion, with the Catholic faith being effectively banned throughout the country. It was only in secret, in
some cases under the protection of wealthy patrons like lady Iveagh, that Mass and the other Catholic
sacraments could be conducted.
The poem also illustrates how the country was robbed of its leadership. Many Irish leaders, of
course, were killed on the field of battle. Many others, like those mentioned in the poem, fled into exile.
Still others, like Lady Iveagh, had their power bases dismantled when they died, ensuring their heirs could
not continue their spirits of defiance.


























EILAN N CHUILLEANIN POETRY
Street:
Line by Line

This short poem tells of a man who fell in love with a girl when he saw her passing in the street. On
one occasion he follows the girl home.
The girl in question is the daughter of a butcher. She works in the butchers herself. The man would
see her walking to and from the shop along the street. She would be dressed in white butchers trousers and
she wore a butchers knife on her belt: Dangling a knife on a ring on her belt. This knife would be bloodied
from her work and drops of blood would fall upon the pavement as she walked along the street. These drops
of blood seem to have been of particular fascination to the man who watched her: He stared at the dark
shining drops on the paving-stones.
One day he decided to follow her as she made her way to the slaughterhouse, or shambles. He
followed her down the lane at the back of the shambles. The door entering the back of the building stood
half-open. Inside the door the stairs were brushed and clean. The girls shoes were placed neatly together
on the bottom step. Red moon-shaped marks were visible on each of the steps, darkest at the bottom and
fading as they reached the top. It seems that the girls feet were bloodied as she climbed the stairs, and every
step she took left a red outline of her heel upon the step: Each tread marked with the red crescent/ Her bare
heels left.
Themes
The feminine
The girl in the poem is an interesting character. She is doing what we might normally consider mans
work slaughtering and butchering animals. The knife that hangs from her belt dripping blood upon the
pavement is a very masculine symbol, something that represents power and strength. In what is perhaps an
otherwise very normal street, this girl is a striking figure.
When the man follows her back home he sees another side to this strong, assertive woman. Looking
in through the half-opened door he sees her shoes neatly arranged at the bottom of steps that are
immaculately clean. It is an image of domesticity, something more traditionally feminine. The bloodied
footprints on the steps are a reminder of the work that she has just been doing. That they fade towards the
top suggests that the girl is leaving behind one world that she inhabits the masculine world of the butchers
and entering the more feminine world of the home
Love
The poem suggests that love is something that often happens locally. We imagine that the man has
watched the girl passing by on many occasions. Perhaps he lives or works on the same street as her. To him
she appears a fascinating character the knife hanging by her waist, the blood from her work dripping on
the pavement stones. Perhaps he is too shy to speak to her and is intimidated by the power she displays as
she strides past in her butchers gear.
The poem hints at the dark side of attraction. The images of the knife and blood in the poem hint at
violence and the fact that the man follows the girl, seemingly silently, back home down a winding path
behind the slaughter house is somewhat unsettling. We never know quite what his intentions are, and we are
not told if the man followed her inside the house or just went back home after.
Imagery:
There is something almost cinematic about the way the poet presents the short narrative of the poem. She
focuses on the girls trousers and her belt and then zooms in on the drops of blood on the paving stones. We
are then following the path down to the back of the shambles where we are brought to a door half-open.
We move inside the door and are presented with the scene of the stairs with then shoes neatly arranged and
the blood marks upon the steps. The images are intriguing and suggest much about the girl and the world she
inhabits.
EILAN N CHUILLEANIN POETRY
The Bend in the Road:
Line by Line
The poem describes a spot along a road where the poet once stopped. She and her family were
travelling to a lake by car and their child felt sick. They pulled over to the side of the road to let the child
recover. They opened the windows of the car while they waited, and breathed the fresh air.
There was a bend in the road where they stopped and a tall house cast a shadow over the car. There was also
a tree shaped like a cats tail. The poet says that this tree seemed to wait with them: A tall tree like a cats
tail waited too. The place was absolutely still nothing moved. After a while the child felt better and they
drove on.
Twelve years have passed since this occurred. Since that day, however, this particular spot on the
road has been remembered as the place where their child felt sick on the way to the lake. Though the road
is still as silent as ever it was on that day some things have changed. Their child has grown and is now
taller than the poet and her husband. The strange-looking tree has also grown and the house has become
quite covered with green creeper.
The poet reflects on all that went on in those years and on the people who have since passed away,
the absences. She recalls the illnesses of those who have died, how their sickness seemed to consume
them, wrapping itself around their bodies and sealing them: we saw them wrapped and sealed by sickness.
These people looked so fragile when ill and the space they occupied seemed hollow and insubstantial: the
airy space they took up. Such was their weakness that their sleep seemed too heavy a burden for them.
Rather than being something that revitalises, the sleep of the sick is seen as a burden, something sapping the
energy of these fragile beings: the piled weight of sleep/ We knew they could not carry too long.
The poet suggests that all that happened over the twelve years and those who have passed away are
somehow present in this particular place along the road. She imagines these events and these people to be
Piled high here, softly packed together like the air or a single cloud floating in a perfect sky. The poet
can somehow sense their presence in this particular place, in the tree, in the air.
Atmosphere
The atmosphere of the poem is very tranquil and peaceful. The place where they stop seems a sleepy
place where nothing much happens. The road is described as silent and nothing moved. The description
of the cloud in a perfect sky and the green creeper covering the house adds to this sleepy atmosphere
Metaphor and Similie
The poet uses a simile when she likens the shape of the tree to a cats tail. She also uses a simile to
describe the way in which the events of the past and all those who have died are somehow contained in this
particular place. She says that they are wrapped lightly, like one cumulus cloud/ In a perfect sky.













Themes
Nature
The natural world features as a benign presence in this poem. The tree near the house, fondly
described as being similar to a cats tail, seems to wait with the family as they wait for their child to feel
better. Over the years the poet has observed how this tree gotten taller just as her child has.
The image of the cloud floating in a perfect sky is similarly benign and peaceful. The poet imagines
that the collected events of the past twelve years and all those who have since departed are gathered together
like one cumulus cloud/ in a perfect sky.
Memory
The poem highlights how certain places and events remain with us and assume an importance over
time. The rather unremarkable place along the road where they stopped that day has always been
remembered by the family as the place/ Where [their child] was sick one day on the way to the lake. Each
time the poet passes by she thinks of all that has happened since that day and of all those who have since
passed away.
The poem also describes how the faces of those who we know and love remain with us after they
have passed away. Though they are physically absent from our lives, the poet says that they are never long
absent from thought.
Death
The poem suggests that life is fragile. The poet thinks of the people who have died since that day
they first stopped along the road on the way to the lake. She describes how weak and insubstantial they
looked when ill, how the space that they occupied seemed airy.
The poem also hints at an afterlife. The poet says that those who have died are somehow present in
this particular place, in the tree, in the air. There is something very peaceful about the place she describes.