Forgetting

Summary

The text is a poetic reflection on the complexities of love and forgiveness, interwoven with elements of Irish mythology.

Abstract

The narrative delves into the dynamics of a relationship where honesty is paradoxically found in the acceptance of lies, drawing a parallel to the relationship between a dairy maid and the deity Crom Cruach in Irish lore. The speaker recounts a tale of clandestine love and birth, where the truth is concealed to protect the sanctity of their bond. The poem explores themes of identity, transformation, and the intoxicating effects of love, likening the fermentation process to the denaturing of truth over time. The speaker finds solace in the amnesia brought on by the lies, allowing them to forget and be redefined by the relationship. The piece culminates with an explanation of the historical and mythological significance of Crom Cruach, a deity who both nurtured and terrorized the people of Ireland, demanding sacrifices in exchange for prosperity.

Opinions

The speaker holds a nuanced view of honesty, valuing the emotional truth of their relationship over factual accuracy.
There is a reverence for the mythological figure Crom Cruach, despite his malevolent aspects, as the speaker acknowledges the god's power over the land and its people.
The act of forgetting is seen as a form of liberation, allowing the speaker to embrace a new identity shaped by their partner's narrative.
The speaker seems to appreciate the beauty and necessity of the lies told by their partner, viewing them as protective measures rather than deceptive acts.
The poem suggests that the speaker is willing to sacrifice personal history for the sake of the relationship's present and future.

Forgetting

There’s an honesty between us that out of hand instantly forgives all the lies she’s telling me. The way the weary dairy maid in spring preemptively forgave the old crook for stealing away her summer newborn. Because he was a god. Because he was her god. And she was his to feed or slaughter per whims of wind divined by his fervent love of Eire.

Onto a grainy beach in brining subterfuge, she delivered me by means unexplained. I nodded when told our boat had to be ferried in secret on dark currents cured by ancient tears of cloven mystics. I nodded and kissed her true, trusting her lie was meant to save me and our newborns from the mystery of how I came to love her. And so

this honesty between us keeps like ferment heady in its cask of sand and time, denaturing sugar as it steeps to produce amnesiac liquors I down in shots when she’s not looking. Sometimes I forget to forget who I am. When the ink soaks in, I conceal the pages. Not to hide the truth, but to allow her lie whatever time it needs to reinvent me.

Note: The “old crook” mentioned by the speaker is a play on words.

In Irish lore, Crom Cruach prevailed among ancient gods and both nourished and terrorized — a fearsome source of mixed messages.

Once a year in summer, he entered villages to cull first-born infants from the houses. In exchange for this gruesome sacrifice, the people of Eire were promised essential sustenance: plentiful harvests and cows with udders full of milk for their winter’s store of butter and curds. The god’s name, Cruach, sounds very much like “crook” when spoken out loud.