Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST March 10th 2023

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

For this session we read a poem The Lost Land” by Eavan Boland, posted below. 

Our prompt was: Write about something lost but never forgotten.

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

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 Friday March 17th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions.

"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.

Source: The Lost Land (W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 1998)

9 thoughts on “Live Virtual Group Session: 12PM EST March 10th 2023

  1. Elizabeth

    Is anything ever lost?
    Even if people, places, objects, events
    fade into the background,
    Our memories live on in our minds.
    While they might not be in the forefront,
    They lurk in the crevices,
    Waiting to be summoned
    by our beating hearts.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. michele348

    About something lost but never forgotten~~~

    I was to leave my birthplace to seek a new life, a new beginning.
    In the recesses of my memory, forever in place, are the images of my childhood home,
    the wooded landscape where I imagined stories of being an explorer and forging into the unknown.
    I remember the serenity and calmness of my surroundings there,
    the outdoors in all its glory, was at my doorstep.
    A new day always brought new surprises and a chance to grow.

    I remember the loving security I felt from my parents and family members,
    assuring me that I would be forever one with them.

    I rely on these memories to bring warmth and comfort when the world moves too fast and its blaring noise hardens the heart.


    • Elizabeth

      Agreed with what you wrote me, Michele. Interesting that we both spoke about the heart in our writing. We also spoke about crevices and recesses in the mind. I think we were on the same wavelength with this prompt.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I lost my mom when I was 24. I’m 62. It still hurts.
    When I lost my mom, I lost my faith. Two things I’d relied on my whole life.
    My mother died of stomach cancer, a rare disease among Caucasians. I was told. I think she got it from swallowing her feelings. So many hurt, homesick, heart-breaking feelings.


  4. rehavia6

    Write about something lost but never forgotten

    Stories I long to tell my father.
    Solid advice I turn to on how to conduct myself.
    Questions I wish that I had asked.
    In my mind he still speaks to me.

    My son’s face would light up when he saw me.
    He never wanted to be separated from me.
    I was the center of his world.
    Now he lives his own life and I am on the sidelines.
    He knows that I am here when needed.

    Friendships from a time when we had fewer responsibilities.
    Experiences we shared and secrets we kept..
    If we were to come together at a moment’s notice I know we would feel that we are home.


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