The house I grew up in

by Margherita Ross

The house I grew up in,
now is dust,
The skin I used to have,
is now covered in cuts.

My hands are trembling,
and so is the ground.

I gracefully lay down
on my scarred Ireland,
Remembering the beauty,
destroyed by opinions.

I wish I could go back,
I wish I could go back,
to whenever being scared
was just two words and not a feeling.

We are fighting for you,
We are fighting for you,
This antidote is just poisoning you.

Written by Margherita Ross as part of Poetry as Commemoration workshops led by Mark Granier in North Wicklow Educate Together Secondary School, Bray in September 2023.