Aisling

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.

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