Primary Level Commended
Far from Home
I rose earlier that morning,
Not knowing the troubles I would overcome,
For it was the day of my emigration,
That feared day had begun.
I sat staring into the empty pot by the fire
Remembering, I had just turned fifteen.
My mother awoke me from my daydream
Saying “Lá breithe Shona, mo ghrá, a Chaitlín”.
It put a lump in my throat
Hearing my mother’s soft words,
Wondering, was that the last time
They’d ever be heard.
As we made our way to Cóbh,
The place where I would say my goodbyes,
I thought of all the memories,
I was leaving behind.
And now I’m departing,
From my beloved country,
Saying my farewells
To my friends and family.
I’m standing in New York now
Not knowing how I’ll cope,
For my heart is full of sadness
But my pot is filled with hope.