Let's really go back

So back to 1999 when the world was still a dream, when I still thought changes were possible, when I didn't know much beyond my front door.

On the Road to Galway Bay

Was it your death

laid out so plain before you

that you objected to? Or was it the sword

laced lengthwise with her dark blood,

a message your subconscious put before thine eyes?

Open, but not to see these stone walls; empty

as a shattered heart, betrayed

for a piece of barren field and a lump of gold.

Her face,

(a sweeter rose they’ll never be) though gone,

emits a peaceful glow. You tower over her quick death

like wolves to carcasses after a long

cold winter. Was she so powerful to deserve this sudden end? Was she

so blind in love that she did not see you coming? God

showered her with love, you covered her with blood. Not just

her own, but that of generations yet unborn,

yet despised,

yet released to hold onto a dream,

which you will waken to each night, every night you sleep

until you meet your maker

in long cold shadows

of regret.

© Catherine Woods 1999, 2017