(in memory of all women, incarcerated again their will, for no crime, in the Magdalene Laundries in Ireland. And for their children. March 2018) By Elaine Feeney.

the past is built upon the backs of mothers,

on the blood of women who were once girls.

Here under the sun, we lay red tulips

among marble, rock and ash,

the grave is a singing cave for them to echo,

let us remember their labour.

The present is a blinkered face,

as eyes look forward at the day’s business.

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