Neilstown Matadors

Super models would kill to be this thin. The diet is stress, cigarettes and coffee. My child-raising days should be done, But somebody had to step into the breach, Somebody had to pick up the scarlet cloak And hold it in front of the rampaging bull. Old spectators in the bull rings of Mexico Pay no heed to fearless young toreadors Who imagine themselves to be invincible. Their interest stirs after a ghter is gored, Because only when he re-enters the arena Will they witness his true test of character. Some afternoons after school in this room, Waiting to see the Drugs Taskforce worker, When my granddaughter suddenly smiles, When she looks up from her colouring book With eyes that match my daughters eyes, With eyes knowing nothing yet of the danger Of dealers peddling needs that need to be fed, With quizzical eyes that I would kill to protect, She asks the question that she loves to ask: Gran, what did you do before you did this? What did I do before I took on her welfare? I fought to raise a daughter on these streets, I stood in queues and worked on checkouts, I searched for my child on dangerous estates, I stood up to debt collectors calling to my door, When she shivered in detox I tried to nurse her, I sold my possessions or saw them all robbed, I cried until one night there were no tears left, I prayed with what remained of my ebbing faith, In time I wrapped my grandchild into my arms And took the place of the person I loved most, I made a nest amid the belongings I possess, I stood up in the ring every time I was gored, I watched the bulls run and raised my cloak Repeatedly to provide what shelter I could, I picked myself up and wiped off the blood, I waited at the school gate to take her hand So that, walking home, no evil could touch her. I dont say such things as I stroke her ngers. Instead I say, as her eyes widen with wonder: Every night during your ten years in this world As you sleep I enter the bull ring with my sword To stand where your mother would have stood: A gladiator standing guard, a secret matador. - Dermot Bolger

The Clondalkin Suite, a sequence of poems by Dermot Bolger, from part of his work in progress entitled County Lives. Commissioned by South Dublin County Council through In Context 3 and funded under the Department of Environment, Heritage and Local Governments Per Cent for Art Scheme, The Clondalkin Suite is being displayed across Clondalkin. Their texts can be downloaded at http://incontext.southdublin.ie/ where comments may also be left for the author. Between the January 1st and March 30th 2008, people who live or work in South Dublin County are invited to submit to the author, via this website, up to three original poems that reect some aspect of their lives within the county. In September 2008, the full text of County Lives will be published, consisting of Dermot Bolgers original sequence interlinked with a representative cross section of submitted poems by other authors. Designed and produced by Yellowstone Communications Design 670 4200.