Lorraine Whelan is a Canadian writer and visual artist based in Ireland. Her published writing takes the form of poetry, memoir & fiction (USA, Ireland, Canada & online) and art criticism & commentary (Ireland, Luxembourg & online). Her writing has been published or is forthcoming in New Irish Writing, Canadian Author & Bookman, The Examined Life, Cyphers, The Salmon, Tales from the Forest, CIRCA, Abstract, and others. As a visual artist, Whelan has exhibited internationally and her artwork is included in public, corporate and private collections in Ireland, Canada, USA, UK, Belgium & Australia. Thingvellir at Night I gaze into the dark expanse, the deepness of time. The night is cold, bitter, but I stand solid at the meeting of plates. Tectonic land masses beneath my feet more sturdy than my shifting yet young in comparison to the sharp specks of light above. The Milky Way curves a clear path but there are no Northern Lights tonight. No matter. The silence is palpable. The glittering show beyond expectation. I blink in the frost, my eyes water and the stars rearrange themselves in the sky. Noticing HeavenIn a dream I see the rainbow rings of Saturn burst in a shower of colour as the planet explodes before my eyes and then this evening with a telescope and you from the roof garden I watch four satellites embrace cold Jupiter as the full moon dances over Dublin city sky. near Greystonesyou are beautiful
especially here at night by the sea you stand tall but shiver slightly with the sharp wind of an oncoming storm dark strands of hair surround your face that glows whiter than the full moon eyes like black craters gaze over the waves as they churn and dash among the rocks close to the shore below us I watch in awe you are a dream and I must wake in another land without you
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