Intimate Letter 1973
© By Padraic Fiacc
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Our Paris part of Belfast has
Decapitated lampposts now. Our meeting
Place, the Book Shop, is a gaping
Black hole of charred timber.
Remember that night with you, in-
valided in the top room when
They were throwing petrol bombs through
The windows of Catholics, how
My migraine grew to such
A pitch, Brigid said ‘Mommy,
I think Daddy is going to burst!’
We all run away from each other’s
Particular hell. I didn’t
Survive you and her thrown
To the floor when they blew up the Co-
Op at the bottom of the street or Brigid
Waking screaming after this
Or that explosion. Really,
I was the first one to go:
It was I who left you …
© Padraic Fiacc, Intimate Letter 1973, 1977
Padraic Fiacc reflects on how fears corrodes the spirit, saying that he simply couldn’t cope after seeing his wife and daughter thrown over by a bomb blast.