Uncontained

In your scratchy shaky pen you wrote:
Dee, I contain you within my name,
Aideen.

In your scratchy, shaky pen
you cast a hex, containing me
within your name 
Aideen, 
with your eyes
all the colours
of the Irish sky.

Aideen, 
I would repeat your name 
in a mesmerising mantra
by the light 
of a dull paperweight moon,
with my shamanic dreaming
and my fisherman’s hands
casting my net around you,
as you cast your name around me.

Even now, years on
your name resonates within me,
conjuring up the image
of a huge expanse of sea
on a hot, still summer’s day -
the sort of sea I crossed
to be with you,
the sort of sea 
that makes me yearn
to be contained.

Aideen, 
I am no longer contained.