The Mad Aunt Of Doolin
She's crazy, my father said
Always has been.
No, said my grandfather, not crazy, just one of a kind.
My aunt followed in the tradition of a long line of women
Who through the ages have chosen to live alone
Usually with a bunch of animals,
Growing their own food,
Not wanting any man.
In the past she would have been known as the Medicine Woman
Or the Midwife
Or The Fool On The Hill
Or even hung from the gallows
As a witch they had to kill.
She had a passion for me as a child.
When she saw me she'd grab me and swing me round and around
She couldn't pass me by without giving me a hug
Or a little kiss,
Never known love like that before or since.
One day I sat at the kitchen table
The early morning mist was over the land,
I cried and sobbed because I didn't want mist,
I wanted sun.
She said, I can bring you sun,
Can't you understand?
She walked outside in all that mist
Caressed every plant, every vine
And within moments the sun came streaming through
Her dark triumphant eyes met mine . . . .