Thursday, September 17, 2009

the Visitors

We looked at pictures of these young ones
Who were coming to visit,
The photos of the good times they had had
In the past, dancing.
It was funny, they had never even heard of the nineties
My Mother said.
There were several Chinese among the rest, which I thought surprising.

When they arrived we were supposed to give them love,
So much love;
I held the Irish girl very tightly
Against the sea wind that buffeted our bodies.
Then I shined my light up, into the dark sky.
My message, in the light, to the girl was
"You are beautiful,"
But she couldn't see it at all, despite me trying,
Trying again to show her.

We both fell silent
At the ominous hum in the distance,
And after, she and her sister left.

The girl had hidden something for me
Which my Mother found, and gave to me:
A linen cover in which to carry the missal.

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