Live Virtual Group Session: 12pm EST March 17th 2021

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

Our text for this session was “The Lost Land” by Eavan Boland, posted below.

Our prompt was: “Bring us to a lost land.”

More details on this session will be posted, so check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (“Leave a Reply”), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if you’re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday March 22nd at 6pm EST, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

The Lost Land by Eavan Boland

I have two daughters.

They are all I ever wanted from the earth.

Or almost all.

I also wanted one piece of ground:

One city trapped by hills. One urban river.
An island in its element.

So I could say mine. My own.
And mean it.

Now they are grown up and far away

and memory itself
has become an emigrant,
wandering in a place
where love dissembles itself as landscape:

Where the hills
are the colours of a child's eyes,
where my children are distances, horizons:

At night,
on the edge of sleep,

I can see the shore of Dublin Bay.
Its rocky sweep and its granite pier.

Is this, I say
how they must have seen it,
backing out on the mailboat at twilight,

shadows falling
on everything they had to leave?
And would love forever?
And then

I imagine myself
at the landward rail of that boat
searching for the last sight of a hand.

I see myself
on the underworld side of that water,
the darkness coming in fast, saying
all the names I know for a lost land:

Ireland. Absence. Daughter.

5 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 12pm EST March 17th 2021

  1. Bring us to a lost land~~~

    My eyes close and the mind wanders.
    The sun warms my face and the sweet smell of lavender fills the air.
    I hear the sounds of birds in the treetops,
    singing their songs of joy and life.
    I inhale deeply the fresh clean air,
    filling my lungs with new life,
    with optimism.
    There are smiles on the faces of children as they frolic in the tall verdant grass,
    no cares nor concerns.
    Bounty abounds no matter what direction my eyes wander.
    Peace, safety, security, love.
    A deep warmth floods over my heart.

    And then I awake to a gunshot, piercing the air, breaking the silence.
    Hatred, cruelty, injustice snaps me back to reality.
    I long to be lost again in my thoughts.


    • al3793

      I like how the speaker frames this narrative lost in thoughts that provide comfort, warmth, protection. And that seems so necessary given the piercing gunshot that breaks the silence. This is very sensual – warmth everywhere, vivid colors and sounds, the fragrance of freshness, emotion of the heart. All shuddered by broken silence but quickly retreats into peaceful thought. Thank you.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. al3793

    Bring us to a lost land…

    When I became a doctor I wanted to help people by bringing together
    the knowledge of the science of medicine with the knowledge of my patients.

    Now we reside in a land where our patients are reduced to combinations of zeros and ones.
    We don’t look at them because an electronic interloper demands out attention
    and we listen while typing, clicking a mouse scurrying across a pad,
    directing a cursor here and there across long distances of landscape.

    I won’t give it up, the listening and looking.

    Those connections direct me to caring best for my patients.

    Listening. Looking. Caring.


    • michele348

      As a patient, I appreciate the dedication to the art of medicine. To be a true healer takes more than simply having the medical knowledge to diagnose and treat. It takes heart, the ability to offer compassion to the patient. You are a model for your students.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Elizabeth

    One year ago we inhabited a different land.
    It looked like the colors of the rainbow, but we always had sunglasses on and never really got to see it.
    It smelled like possibility, even though we did not know this at the time.
    It sounded alive, although at times it felt like too much for us.
    It tasted like a smorgasbord, one that we were always trying to diet our way out of eating.

    We no longer inhabit that land.
    We have been isolated and quarantined from it.
    We quickly have had to learn to live in the land of now.


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