Home Grown In Glasgow – a poem for International Women’s Day by Ruby McCann
Home Grown In Glasgow
I am woman
a sister of Glasgow
a pale skinned, freckled-faced Scot
a she-child fae the sou’ side
a native Glaswegian
Mither Glasgow shaped me
I am a child of many
born into this city
I am Pict, I am Celt
I am Irish, Scottish, and Glaswegian
a city born, tenement-bred lassie fae the Gorbals
raised up in housing scheme-slums
an Irish Catholic, Scottish Protestant, non-believer
spawn of violence, poverty and alcohol
social services, children’s homes, foster care
I am woman
the daughter and granddaughter of many Mothers
Grannies, Aunties and Sisters
when they call me
they shout from kitchen windows
hen, lassie, dear, mrs wummin,
“yer tea’s ready”
I come from Clydeside washer wimmen
who stood by the river scrubbing a living
I’m their wee yin, their wean, a Glesga girl
home grown in Glasgow’s steamies
Glasgow is in me rolls ower my tongue
fae deep in ma belly
to the guttural sounds that I speak
the language of haggis and neeps
I’m a lassie from that ‘dear green place’
rooted in the soil of the second empirical city
I don’t speak Gallic because they took my language from me
I am though trilingual
I speak Scots, Glaswegian and English
I am not English
I speak from that body for those who do not understand me
all clear and perfect and empty
still, England is my sister, my neighbour
and unlike my an-sister Mary, she
has ta’en me in and nourished me
I am not Irish
though Irish blood runs through me
in the kick of my jig
in the heat of my temper
in the song of myself
Ireland’s waters feed and nurture
the roots of my ansisters
I am neither Spanish nor Moor
yet a Spanish Moor lives in me
in the black of my hair, my
eyes, the roundness of my hips
I have no home in Spain
there is no going back
it’s too late now
I am the bird flying to a new world
I am the fish swimming in her waters
I am the tree growing
a new leaf from the ancient oak
my roots reaching through generations of clearances
a voyage of wimmen migrating
north to south
east to west
island to mainland
highland to lowland
I am woman
a simple Glasgow lass
every day of the year
my bell rings loudly through me
and not only on Sunday’s for mass
but in the ever burning fire within
Women birthed me
kept me going
brought me here
to who I am now
I am woman
I am complete
Ruby McCann, March, 2018
This section: Poetry, stories and poems, Writing
Filed under: Poetry, stories and poems, Writing
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