Joyce Fegan: A Cork poet in New York is all the therapy I need

'I've tried everything these 20 months: I've walked, I've crafted, I've swam in the sea, I've meditated and I've done yoga, but all of them combined do not compare to listening to this Cork man read a poem into your ears, and hear him confess his own human, but universal struggles, to fit in, to forgive or to bother finding hope'

The girl lies on the bed with a smartphone, listens to an audio book with his eyes closed

A few weeks ago a friend was making two pots of curry on a Saturday night in her home place. Her husband was putting their one-year-old baby down for the evening. The baby was being christened the next day. The curries were to feed the well-wishers. In the kitchen as she cooked, her father kept her company, both of them listening to a poetry podcast in the background.

I came to know the details of this night because we were discussing the intricate strategies of how other people, not just the mother, can get a breastfed baby to sleep.