Poem: The Open Rose

Open Rose
The moon is my second face, her long cycle
Still locked away. I feel rain
Like a tried-on dress, I clutch it
Like a book to my body. His head is there when I work,
It signs my letters with a question-mark;
His hands reach for me like rationed air.
Day by day I let him go Till I become a woman, or even less,
An incompletely furnished house
That came from a different century
Where I am guest at my own childhood.
I have grown inside words
Into a state of unbornness,
An open rose on all sides
Has spoken as far as it can.

Transcribed poem:
"I understand the moon and rain each with their own forms of reticency.
There is a man whom my heart desires, yet there also is a distance that separates us.
Whether you call it time or age it makes no difference, we long for each other with no avail.
Our distance creates doubt in me, and I wonder if fate will never allow our unity.
Will I gain knowledge of inexplicable restrictions, or worse, will I become a woman with a heart full of questions as to the reasons why fate wouldn't allow?
I feel out of place with these ideas in my mind.
Perhaps I should have been born at a different time when others would've understood.
For now, my whole nature is like a rose that has bloomed as much as it can,
Trying to reveal to the garden the beauty and pain within."

Source: I've never heard of Medbh McGuckian before, but after reading a few of her poems, I found that I relate to a few of the deep passions she describes. She was born in 1950 in Belfast and educated a convent as well as Queen's University. One critic proclaimed that McGuckian had a way of revealing a "feminine sensibility." I absolutely agree that she knew how to capture the fiery emotions within women, especially with the poem I chose, Open Rose.

When first reading over the Open Rose, I couldn't decide if the speaker was describing her loss of a lover or the forbidance to one. I resolved the poem to reflect the latter mentioned scenario. Even though this writing does not blatantly mention much of the landscape, history, or culture of Ireland, reading between the lines showed me an abundance of the trials faced by the Irish as well as every other culture. The depiction of this young woman who has deep convictions for the one she loves leads the reader to realize the similar convictions of brave countrymen who would love and die for their homeland. Ireland experienced many civil unrests yet there have always been those who wouldn't back down to protect their freedoms. Just as this young woman is at a moment in her life to decide whether she must proclaim her love or let it wither away, the martyrs of many countries including Ireland also faced this same question. Would they die for what they believed in, or would they let the outer forces pressure them into conformity only to cause a more severe suffering of watching their heart's dreams being trampled on by apathists declaring all should "move on?" My interpretation of this poem by McGuckian draws a serious aspect in me to admire the Irish. Some may say they are too proud, yet the impetus that drives them to never back down is what make the Irish such a wonderful people.