Aishling Doherty (TYB) Wins Read DL Creative Writing Competition


Congratulations to Aishling Doherty (TYB) who came FIRST in the Read DL Creative Writing Competition. It's not Aishling's first scoop in a literary competition and we have high hopes for her. Her winning entry is below...


(Read DL is a county-wide reading movement, designed to bring the people of Donegal together by collectively reading the same book.)

Isn’t It?

What does it mean to find oneself, For how can I be lost before I am born?

Are they not my eyes that gaze back at me,

In shop windows and rear-view mirrors? The eyes that witness the kindness and the ignorance

That every human holds.

Are they not my hands that help me create,

That write words and open doors? It is not possible for anyone else to hear

The bickering, absent-minded chatter,

The wistful whining of the wind That mourns deep into the night. The rain that pelts mercilessly against the window, Until dawn breaks and the birds wake the sun from its slumber.

How could anyone else hold memories such as mine? That bring tears of joy and sadness all at once.

My eyes are the only ones to see the beauty

In the details of the intertwining mountains,

Are they not? Of course, it is my mouth that speaks the stories,

Of the people before that lead us to this world

And the hunger and hate that pushed us back. I know that I am here, My memories do not match those of anybody else’s. But as a speck in this overcrowded world, I am nothing more than another hopeless soul,

Lost in the maze of my mind. For it seems that most spend their entire lives

Learning of themselves and their abilities

While time passes on and leaves them behind.


And so why does it matter that I find myself at all?

For I am here in flesh and blood and that is all that I need,

Isn’t it?

The wealth of knowledge does not offer much assistance

During long sleepless nights spent wondering.

And we wish that we had not wasted

So much time wanting to know more,

Of why our minds are crafted in such a way

That these thoughts churn around and around,

Like the loose change in a tumble dryer,

Until we reach an age where we look back

And realise that it wasn’t who we were that mattered,

Only what we did on our brilliant journey.