riding the light
Updated: a day ago
In Dublin today, my boy looked out of his window;
a skewbald horse in the street, being given a wash down.
In the cul-de-sac at the end of Black Horse Avenue,
a balcony game of bingo, Damo ringing out numbers:
33, come in for ya tea, 26, bed and breakfast...
A new weight to each day, but also a livingness.
Seagulls and pigeons cruising through Phoenix,
calls echoed by sirens, a lion's roars
and the songs after: On the Banks of the Royal Canal,
Dirty aul' Town and Raglan Row. He noticed
a kid, he says, walking the park with his parents,
counting the steps. We’ll go home, they said,
when you get to a thousand. He looked at his watch.
We’re not at a thousand yet, not at a thousand
yet, not at a thousand yet….
and they rode the light, and they smiled
and they didn’t correct him.
I am indebted to the Arts Council for funding a project to write poems during, but not necessarily about, the lockdown, and to share them on social media, the most immediate and direct form of communication at this time. The poems will be responses to stories given to me. This first one is from my son, Cian Hamilton, who arrived back in Dublin from Zimbabwe, just in time for lockdown. Thank you Cian. x
Photo courtesy of Cian Hamilton.