Dear Home, I'm sorry I left you, and with you my parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews. My friends. My safety. My me. You were there for me for twenty five years, and I jumped on a plane without thinking for a moment what losing you might mean. I had always been so proud to be … Continue reading Missing You
On the Wearing of the Poppy
* This article began as one covering my thoughts of the British tradition of wearing the poppy. It splintered off in several different directions. I will leave the title as is. Now the sun shines down on the green fields of France a warm summer wind makes the red poppies dance The trenches have vanished … Continue reading On the Wearing of the Poppy
The Stolen Child
Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. The Stolen Child - W.B. Yeats The quote and my tattoo above are of the chorus of W.B. Yeats' poem: The Stolen Child. It is my favorite … Continue reading The Stolen Child
Lonely
It's fucking gone. I want to write. About something. About anything. I can't. Over several weeks - I can't. Please help. Give it back. I sit in Starbucks crying. Crying for it. I need it. It's all I have. It's how I get out of my brain. Coffee and tablets assisting. Life has been falling … Continue reading Lonely
Joe Cuddy
John: How r ya Mick? Mick: Ah sure I'm grand. Not a bother. John: Sure same as meself so. Mick: How's the missus? John: Sure she's grand too. How's yours? Mick: Ah she's alright I suppose. John: D'ya know who I seen up there the other day? Mick: No. Who did ya see? John: Yer … Continue reading Joe Cuddy
Losing My Religion
I was born in 1978 in Holy Catholic Ireland as it is mockingly called to indicate just how much control The Catholic Church has\had on the country. I grew up in a suburb of Dublin. A modern corner of the country. There were a couple of separated couples (divorce was illegal), the odd single mother, … Continue reading Losing My Religion
Three Thousand Six Hundred and Fifty Seven Miles
It's a seven and a half hour flight west to east and an eight and a half hour on the return. Doesn't sound too bad. Add on customs, immigration, check-in, hanging around the airport for no good reason, and it feels like you're traveling to the moon. In reality you (or I) am traveling from … Continue reading Three Thousand Six Hundred and Fifty Seven Miles
