Who was I?

Who was I before I forgot your face?
Who was I before I forgot your name?
Who was I before?
My mother’s face, my father’s face, my brother’s face.
Mother Earth, Father Sky, Brother Wind.
Uya – Uya – Uya – Uhhhh
Mother Earth, Father Sky, Brother Wind return to me,
Uya – Uya – Uya-
Pure sound come back to me,
So I can be,
who I was,
before I forgot your name

The O – the M – the A – the YA –
The OM MAYA

2011

– –

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,...

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...

Still children seeking their way home

Poetry by Bettina

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...

View all Works by this Author

Anthology

What Trudy Knows

Poetry by Knute Skinner

I find myself mourning but not for anyone we have buried and not for the old neighbourhood or my lost youth or any of that crap. To make no bones...

Still children seeking their way home

Poetry by Bettina

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...

Victory Dance

Poetry by Sanaya

Let me dance my Victory dance around the anarchy that crumbles Inside me. Rubber band arms stretch far out Collision Rejection Dismantle this machinery of misery, let each bolt fall...