The
memories flood me back now haunting and keen
An
innocence spent 'mid the blue and the green.
Ireland!
Fair maiden jewel, touched warm by Gulf Stream
And
Londonderry, our Derry, there stand mist'd as in dream.
Awake
and I ache to wander back and to long
I
strain to deign echoes of my twenties snatched gone
To
steal back some moments of Gael's time touched with mine
Relish
heart, now soul, in memory's arms I'd entwine.
I
recall we were told this stoic and true:
'These
times have brought troubles, don't dare misconstrue.
Don't
discuss events and religion with neighbor or crew.
Don't
wear out you welcome, attend to our red, white, and blue.'
The
sentiment not spoken, but certainly there
As
there as the coal-smokey fog o'er ever-drizzling air
Succumb
not to passions, don't get involved with aplomb.
Young
words might confound us, pray we'll not get bombed.
I
retreated to barrack, tomb dark cinder of gloom
To
Steinbeck novels, inspections, haircuts, dungaree uniforms, thoughts
floating home
Three
squares, doublebacks, quarter beer machines, smokes, and rock tunes
Cadence
of mission, rites and traditions. Soon,
time closed me in alone.
Three
years stood the watch, morse code radioman, section two
Took
messages from brave men living at cold briney blue.
We
tuned in the freqs, read the traffic, cut tapes, and I know
We
well understood details of world events 'round the globe.
When
finally off base, a Saturday liberty ensued
A
stretch for adventure and freedom pursued.
Down
Limavady Road, snow-capped mountains oft aways viewed
Brit
choppers ever chumped provocative stealth attitudes.
Every
few hundred yards cars hiccupped o'er security speed bumps.
Every
major corner all stopped checked at riflepoint mounts.
Every
directional glance saw auld coveted Sod fought o'er and bled.
Still,
most men passed with twinkling greets or nods of the head.
Discovered
Cassonni's, newspaper stands and Cadbury chocolate, fish 'n chip shops
Cross'd
sad Foyle, church spires, Bog, Quay, and Rosemont, political graffiti backdrops
Found
proud, hopeful, intense people pressed 'round town in a rush
Who
would shop, drink, love, live, and work here, yet destroy here, with a
touch.
Derry,
as lain open, happily devoured me, and I it.
Walked
and I sang, breathed, and laughed practicing stiff upper lip
Suffered
false indignity and embarrassment for the frisked and the friskers.
Ended
up at a pub drinking Guinness and shots with two dark-eyed sisters.
At
closing time I started back, but forgot how far 'twas to go
Held
long 'fore a thorn bush found a full steaming blow.
But
just before home a man stumbled to me, with teary-mad eyes
Swirled
in fog, said he: 'Birmingham. England.
Tomorrow. Hundreds
will die.'
I
was confused by this sleeve-grabbing specter, this secret admission
I
dispassionately thought it speculative, an old, be-sotten confession.
I
but in dismay and sorrow learned the next day
Maimed
and slain Brits on their sidewalks did lay.
Time
of desperation. Land of ancient beauty, mystery, joy and hate.
All
drowned feelings in abuses sought to both heighten and abate.
Eddied
time given, then taken, in each our own light sought to stand
Ireland,
saw me a boy, but changed. I
left a man.
Eventually
took home a young bride, a lively blue-eyed lass.
She
gave me good kids, but marriage died early, a score and three didn't it
last.
Never
a day passes by now, memory of this island doesn't affix me some fashion.
Never
will I not feel Gael's heart beating, nor know the drive of her passions.
