Fermoy

from Change in the Wind

When I return

I see myself as stranger,

in that town of forty winters

and summers past

where I was weaned,

walking awkwardly, uncomfortable;

a time traveler fearing

the paradox of meeting

himself.

Everything and nothing has changed

like the constant rate of the river flow

thunderous beneath the promise 

of leaping salmon 

throwing themselves against time's weir.

People look strangely familiar,

and I try to read the DNA family portraits

written on their cryptic faces

to my confusion and dismay.

Dismissive they are,

since I look past them to see others,

and all is hollow, shadow formed,

except the gravestone lichened,

and the sharpened reality

of a mother's grave.

©Copyright Niall OConnor2014