Michelle Gilliam in Ireland May 09′

Walking through the old streets,

Repaired grey cobbles flow between

buildings married to each other,

inseparable, holding the other up.

Painted so many times they are thick

with history and tell stories.

Scattered with people winding in between.

Cars, on their predictable paths.

Today the sky is blue and does not cry

Today is a good day as the beat

makes your legs bounce along.

The whole town is dispersed to their new

destination. Uniforms on children, Protectors,

and workers. Up and down life fills this small

town and I feel alive walking in her.

Possibilities of what lies ahead

just behind each windshield, black jacket

or freckled smile. These feel like my people.

A new story is being added to the landscape,

washing over it in this one moment in time,

it calls to me for it knows it has a piece of me

as de’ja’vu, I was meant to be here and Ireland knows it.

Miles and miles of green,

speckled yellow flowers,

May’s  glory.

Walls of rocks don’t look

dividing, but orderly and good;

old and gray like the ancestors

looking over the land;

walls of wisdom overseeing

 the new life in the young Irish.

The sky is always talking here

with fast moving clouds of grey.

White and blue pens writing history

as time moves on.

Rain comes and goes,

sun runs and shows.

‘All in stride’ is carried

to every nuance of life.

Irony follows

And laughter heals

in the moment.

Not in the past

or mind’s future

just enjoying

what is and not what was

or thinking too hard

about what will be,

just stealing time.