Spoken Poetry
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
Irish (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
the promised land by neve cooper. She clutches her mother's hand, her ragdoll in the other hanging limply like her heart, legs swaying, they stand stock still. The biting wind will not displace them, nor their minds stranded. They must drink. In the last few blinks of the twinkling shore of dry land. Her mother's hand lies warm in hers, her rag dolls cold and clammy like the tears falling silently from mother's soul. But mother never cries today. She is a mirror of her peers. The lights have disappeared and they are here sailing with hope and fear away from all. They hold so dear and all that's left are people so bereft of thought and voice accused of theft. They have nothing left as they flee towards the promised land. They have nothing to demand their damned no blacks nor irish. Here, doors slammed. The ragdoll lies forgotten on the nightstand. Her mother's wrinkled hands are tired, sore like oak veneer, she's hardly hear, she doesn't like it. Here she scrubs the floors, stitches, shawls, knocks on doors, runs errands for the city whores and dreams of shore's so far away while sweeping dirt and deep and hurt. She perseveres together. They will and bit by bit the sun appears and spring brings cheers. A letter from their dear daughter and sister. Tears of joy run down their faces and they stand together, looking out to see today's the day a ship will land from greener shore's and irish sands their rag dolls back in hand, a new farm and her scraggly hair and bands. And when their loved ones smiles near, they all embrace and fear and tears fall from their souls onto the soil and hands still touching, still in disbelief. Their grief has disappeared, and suddenly it's clear the land that's promised is right here within our hearts and minds and hands, and we carry it with us everywhere.