On the poetry of Helen Soraghan Dwyer

Helen Soraghan Dwyer, a writer and poet, is also the chairmen of the Irish Writers' Union.
Her poems selected for this edition of Europa in Versi are linked by a dramatic and pervasive idea of death, of an inexorable end, of the impossibility of a return. Death is not simply conjured, it doesn't assume vague and blurred outlines, but – on the contrary – it becomes a protagonist with concrete and tangible features. Death is a coffin and a tomb, it's the interrupted greeting of a mother to her son, the lipstick that won't colour lips anymore.
There are no divinities or otherwordly philosophies to console the excruciating pain that the terrible Woman in Black drags with her. There are only human gestures, gestures that in their conscious impossibility to reconstruct the previous state of things trace the only line of continuity admitted between the world of those who go and the world of those who stay.
A realistic poetry, suffered and suffering, that in all of her verses Dwyer has the great merit of accompanying with a marked and intense dignity, that same dignity that on the earth and under it defines and guarantees the more authentic sense of humanity.

written by Alessandra Corbetta

Fotografia di un bosco nella nebbia