Annemarie Ní Churreáin

• Family Law​
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In our sixth summer, you bring me the news
that we come from a broken rib.
 
Now you believe we are in danger.
Now you believe we must atone for the sins of our fathers.
 
but daughter we come from the spriest woods.
You and I are of the roots
 
that uphold an alphabet to the sun.
Your name begins in Ruis mine in Ailm.
 
When we speak leaves fall from our tongues.
Birds nest in the smallest of our words.
 
For this wildness, we need not apologise.
What grows underfoot is not a worry, it is a right.
 
By chieftain law, no harm can be done to us.
This law our elders knew by heart,
for even the milk in a cup was owed to it.
 
Long before the houses of worship were raised
by men, our trees stood tall.
 
 
From Bloodroot (Doire Press, 2017)
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Photo Credit: Barry McCall

​ANNEMARIE NÍ CHURREÁIN is a poet from Donegal in northwest Ireland. Her books include Bloodroot (Doire Press, 2017), Town (The Salvage Press, 2018) and The Poison Glen (The Gallery Press, 2021). She is a recipient of the Arts Council’s Next Generation Artist Award and a co-recipient of The Markievicz Award. The Yale Review has reported that Ní Churreáin “often captures a whole world of cultural and historical implications in a single, simple, but metaphorically rich image”.  Ní Churreáin has held literary fellowships in the U.S. and throughout Europe. She is the poetry editor at The Stinging Fly magazine. Visit www.studiotwentyfive.com

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