By Lynn White
It was a long way from the green fields and boggy moss
to the tropical heat of Barbados
where the ship took them,
those Irish peasants,
as seeped in idolatry as their homeland was in rain,
or that’s what the masters said
so far as she understood
their language
as harsh and severe
as the god they worshipped.
And it was a long way from the tropical heat of Barbados
to the master’s house in Salem
the last port of call
for some of those Irish peasants,
those who survived so far,
still enslaved
but called ‘indentured’ now.
She always believed it was her tongue
that killed her,
not its sharpness,
Irish was a gentle language, after all
and she never learned theirs
so their questions
could not be understood
or answered.
And what answers could she give in any language?
What language could tell them
who was godly
and who was devilish,
who was a witch
and who was a saint.
Only power could speak
and the Irish had none.
Only power can speak
and slaves have none.
(Editor’s note: Irish-born Goodwife ‘Goody’ Ann Glover was the last woman to be hanged as a witch in Boston in 1688)
Lynn White lives in North Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. She has been nominated for Pushcarts, Best of the Net and a Rhysling Award.
https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com
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