Still children seeking their way home
Still children seeking their way home

We are grown people we claim.
To prove it our lips form a tight line,
our faces show wrinkles
which remind us of years of
living,
striving,
surviving,
crying after lost loves,
burying friends,
holding babies,
doing the washing and cooking.

Behind all the pretence, the masks,
the make up to cover the sharp lines,
one child meeting another,
forever trembling,
stumbling,
wondering,
hoping to make sense.

We are grown people we claim
but deep down, if only we had eyes to see,
we are still children seeking our way home.

2003

– –

Poems chosen from an anthology of poems called ‘For Crying Out Loud – Voice of an Exile’, published early 2016.

Bettina

Bettina John von Freyend-Peterseil was born at the end of the 2nd World War in Germany. She exiled herself early on, travelling the world, never able to settle anywhere for long. She now lives in the West of Ireland, where she and her husband built their home, raised their children and tended the land. She has been teaching, writing and in the past 15 years creating her collage work.

The poetry compilation ‘For Crying Out Loud- voice of an exile’ comes at a time when globally people are forced to move on a large scale. Bettina offers a personal account of the mindset of a self imposed exile. She reveals her disconnection and her longing to belong mirroring a world also steeped in separation.

Ouevre

I’ve tried to run

Poetry by Bettina

I’ve tried to run from suburb to city, to mountains and sea, from father and mother to husband, son and daughter. I hold memories of passing moments like clouds, dissolving,...
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Disconnection

Poetry by Bettina

Disconnected, heavily defended, I avoid you when I pass you in the street, our eyes don’t meet, like empty shuttles they seem to be travelling nowhere. Disconnected, heavily defended, I...
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There is a time

Poetry by Bettina

There is a time to hang on and a time to let go. Now is the letting go time, the ending time, leaving the shore time, handing over my will...
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Anthology

Thought and its Futility

Poetry by Gaurav Mathur

Thought and its futility Are seen Desire and its pointlessness Are seen Fear and its subsidence Are seen The unwavering flame of attention Engulfs all that is Mind is still,...
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All That is Given

Poetry by Frank Golden

Hard wind on the turn at Cappaghmore. You drive on, on the cusp of light, along the old road past Mortyclough. To think it’s taken me a lifetime to cool...
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सब लुट गया तो क्या, तू अब भी है

Poetry by Omendra Ratnu

सब लुट गया तो क्या, तू अब भी है, अँधेरी रातों में तेरी महक अब भी है !   टूटती नहीं ये खुमारी क्या करें, वजूद में मेरे घुली मिली,...
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