With so much beauty?
I drive over the Wicklow Gap,
The colours changing from autumn to winter,
Low cloud hangs in the valleys,
Sheep stand white and pure
In misty rain.
Stark contrast. In the car,
I'm playing late 70's punk,
Harsh, loud, angry.
It takes me back to those years,
Sleazy nightclubs, too much drink,
Bleary hangovers and school.
Alka Selzer BEFORE going out.
What to do with so much beauty,
But cry with pity at it all?
We come so far
And find ourselves
Right back where we started.
I drive past the B&B
Where we once stayed.
The eldest was a baby then.
Six months old.
I felt blessed.
To have a baby of my own,
To be in so much beauty;
A job, enough money
For this cheap holiday in Ireland.
Who knew I'd end up here?
Who knew I'd end up living
In these mountains, in Wicklow?
The tough girl from Brum,
From the city streets and city nights,
Clubs and pubs and sticky floors,
Falling over too often?
So much beauty.
If only I could capture it,
Bottle it to share with you.
To feel ROOTED in this beauty -
How fantastic would that be?
But I'm only a drifter,
Floating over it,
On my way to who knows where.
(18.11.09)
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