Written with soaring imagery, this is a haunting, disturbing novel in verse; an historical tale but one with timeless resonance. We feel the longing of the children uprooted from their families and are amazed by their resilience, somehow fuelled by the wild beauty of the countryside. The sequence of lyrical snapshots juxtaposes the voice of officialdom with the use of dialect, which emphasises the sense of dislocation of being a home child.
Prayer
In the long grass behind the chapel
the wind moans a blaming song.
Her heart, a dun bird in the chill evening light,
her breath making haloes;
all those she left behind crying in the night
like loons over the lake.
Come wings, carry her to the dark sleep,
to the moon with her mother’s face,
that beautiful gone bone-orchard face.
