Three and a half months of wandering searches, strolling and pacing,
and lonely soles tossed, stumbling on with the whole.
One semester of finding and failing, learning and losing,
and tripping on cobbles by the midnight glow.
Some time passed in laughter, heartache and friendship
a blur’s purpose aimless to establish true goals.
A life slipping onward, feeling and reaching, honoring reason,
and wondering why all the good things must go.
Three and a half months of this –
and I find myself back where it all began,
in shannon airport.
Just as cold, just as grey, just as concrete as I remember it
when I touched down here under a sinus headache and heavy clouds.
But this time it’s almost 4 in the morning and I’m all alone
except for the haw-hawing french couple posing for pictures
beside the array of stunning views in the empty airport.
And I can’t help but smile and laugh softly to myself,
while staring out at nothing and thinking about how life is so cyclical,
how it turns in such a way that when you’re sure you’ve found the ground –
it flips over itself and shakes everything up in your head
until all that’s left is a jumble of images, faces, and a warm foggy feeling
or a cold one beneath your heart that hardens your stomach.
And I can’t help but smile to know that the yellow road is only in Kansas
or in the mind of a delirious teenage girl,
and I haven’t been in either of those places – and don’t plan on it.
But I’ve met my fair share of tin-men and lions and scarecrows anyway
So I can’t help but smile and laugh to myself
At 4 in the morning in shannon airport
after three and a half months
while an uncomfortable french couple whispers behind wary hands.