My Freedom'

by James Hawkshaw

My freedom tastes like scones just out of the oven
my Mam has freshly baked them with tender love and care.
My freedom smells like freshly cut grass
on a hot summer’s day.
My freedom sounds like birds
chirping on a spring morning.
My freedom feels like a
side tackle on a wet sloppy pitch
playing Ballymoe
always a fierce display.
My freedom is most at home
relaxing in the sun
soaking up the rays.
No fear of guns and bullets
no fear of death and decay.
My freedom cost some
their lives and future
and dreams.
their hopes and aspirations
lost so that I could be free.

Written as part of Poetry as Commemoration workshops for Transition Years led by Terry McDonagh and Mary Melvin Geoghegan in Castlerea Community School, Roscommon, in  October 2023.