The journey home.
who turns the lights off
so many things to worry about
let alone dying.
Can’t find my feet,
can’t find the tunes,
singing with the loons,
yeah, singing with the loons.
I will look you in the eye, in the eye,
eye to eye
and god dam it I love you so much, so much,
with a monumental big screen kiss
and will this be the last one.
I used to push words around, now they push me with diagnosis.
We kicked, we squealed,
just righting, writing
to love and love trumps democracy
And will we get dark nearing home’s light
with fractions of distractions easing us into the real
the heaviness of it
the triumphant celebration of goodbye
How many ways can you say thank you
to the beautiful crazy poet, ahead by a century
and now his spirit has crossed over, now in flight,
fly well, fly safe,
to the Paris of the prairies,
to wheat kings and pretty things.
©Ciarán Mckenna Oct 20th 2017, not my words, rather threads of truth from the Long Journey Home.