Poetry: Michaela Brady

Uaigneas (Dán do m’athair)

Crows befriend the bread-handed boy,
Squawk and battle for a bite.
Metro wires hiss and wheeze,
Spite the hills and sun-soaked fields.

New York blinks its bloodshot stare,
Recalling you and I were there.
From azure deli doors,
Whiffs of baking bread
Flirt with slow-cook sunburn.

But now I can be anywhere;
Western cities groan the same.
Riding through a London green,
Gliding through the shadowed dawn;
I’m convinced it’s just the same.

But where are you when I awake?
Where are you, voice beneath music,
Brimming with stories owned and rented,
Debates and schemes for woodsy walks.

Bottled up in bucket seats, we watch
As worlds of millions catch the day,
Battle for statues to recall their names.
We’re facing west to Hudson, south to Thames.

Do you have a friend these mornings?
Do you choose to drift and dream?
Yes, it’s just the same.
And never is again.

Feature Image: Daniele Idini