by Eavan Boland Like oil lamps, we put them out the back — of our houses, of our minds. We had lights better than, newer than and then a time came, this time and now we need them. Their dread, makeshift example: they would have thrived on our necessities. What they survived we could not even live. By their lights now it is time to imagine how they stood there, what they stood with, that their possessions may become our power: Cardboard. Iron. Their hardships parceled in them. Patience. Fortitude. Long-suffering in the bruise-colored dusk of the New World . And all the old songs. And nothing to lose.
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