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⬅️ Previous capture (2022-06-04)
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After a hard days work at the shop
A wage earned and happy with my lot
I lay my head on the bus window pane
And fell asleep to the sound of light rain
To my dismay, I found myself back
On O'Connell Street, with a peddler's sack
A woman was standing, like a shell in the sand
On a pile of rags, with a cup in her hand
She came to me and looked me in the eye
And cawed, "so yer back, did ya bring the rye?"
A passer-by turned up his nose
And while walking by, stomped on my toes
The woman was beautiful, in spite the dirt
That covered her face, her hair, and her shirt
She came closer and whispered in my ear
"My name is Aisling, don't you fear"
"I will take you to a place underneath
The stomping of feet and the gnashing of teeth
The hands stuffed in pockets, all brimming with change
And the politicians, faux-righteous with rage"
"The place is not lonely, it is filled to the brim
With all of us homeless, marked by a sin
We'll go there together in the dead of the night
And we'll live there forever, out of their sight."
"Since 2014, we've been adding to our clan
The government said they'd stop us with a housing plan
But the time to build has already passed
They've all looked away, and we have amassed."
"It was all fighting talk then, when the Brits were around
But now that they're gone, we rarely hear a sound
It's as if they have no will of their own
It's only the markets, both foreign and home-grown."
"Sit with me here, with your hand held out straight
And watch while the people pretend that they're late
No time to stop, no money to give
You'll see it's not such a bad way to live."
Just then, I awoke with a start -
My brow drenched in sweat and my hand on my heart
I looked around the bus - the people looked worn
Outside the window, the rain had turned to a storm.