Poem of the Week: “Jigsaw” by Doireann Ní Ghríofa

In her poem “Jigsaw,” Doireann Ní Ghríofa draws the reader into the physical and psychological complexities of motherhood. Using bodily descriptions and an emphasis on personal experience, Ní Ghríofa contrasts the feelings of uncertainty and anticipation that accompany sensing a baby wriggling in the womb with the settledness and comfort of a mother knowing her child. By positioning the child as a “little stranger” who, once born, exhibits a form of innate and almost predestined belonging to the mother, much like the pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, the final line of the poem lifts the reader with a feeling of hope for the future of this pair.

– Mary Outland, WFU Press Intern

Míreanna Mearaí

Ar feadh i bhfad
ní bhfuair mé ort ach spléachadh,
scáil a scaip faoi chraiceann teann,
mo bholg poncaithe ag pocléimneach—
gluaiseacht glúine nó uillinne,
cos, cromán nó mirlín murláin
sa mheascán mistéireach a d’iompair mé.

Le breacadh lae, phléasc tú
ón domhan dorcha sin,
is chaith mé míonna milse
ag cuimsiú píosaí do mhíreanna mearaí,
á gcur le chéile, á gcuimilt,
trácht coise i mbos mo láimhe,
cuar cloiginn i mbaic mo mhuiníl.

Chuir mé aithne mhall ort, a strainséirín.

Jigsaw

For months
there was little I could glimpse
in your jumble of limbs, but a muddle
of shadows stirring under my skin.
Untranslatable: my swollen middle
suddenly punctuated by the nudge
of a knee or an ankle, perhaps a small
knuckle rolling past fast as a marble,
or the cryptic twist of a heel or hip,

but once dawn drew you
from that dark world,
I spent months piecing
this jigsaw together at last, and I saw
how the arch of your foot fit the hollow
of my palm, how your head nestled
into the curve of my neck. I knew it: we fit.

Then you grew, little stranger, and I grew to know you.

– Doireann Ní Ghríofa, from Lunulae (2024)