“what shimmers is the ordinary of the disquiet”
What’s spared are the images of the early consciousness— a landscape is stripped to its signs— the sudden idea is the source of faith—things appear as their possible selves— first impressions are a set of beliefs—a glimmer of light is a way of life— everything happens in a private place— all is determined in an instant—at the same time nothing is fixed—
don’t think there is more
than the shiver of grass
through the low field
on a particular summer’s day
a word
so private
a Sunday parlour
couldn’t say it
into itself
suddenly across the silence
of the evening countryside
a sheep cries out
from an unseen field
like the whole point
of the pointless
the way moonlight
nicks a kerb
like a street caught in the act
of its memory
Una Woods was born and raised in Belfast where she now lives. Her earliest memories are of the darkly imposing three storey terraced houses, the black factory smoke and the interweaving streets where she joined the other children in their seasonal games.
In contrast to this the other pivotal point of early awakenings was the soft green countryside of County Down where she, her brothers and cousins had the freedom of the fields and roads around their grandmother's house where all the school holidays were spent.