Traffic

 

I'm four years out of Dublin now and live in an idyllic part of Donegal. The change wasn't quite as dramatic as it might have been as I've been travelling up and down for years, spending weekends and holidays here. To say that the quality of my life has improved is an understatement and I have not regretted leaving, but I have lost something which I think this poem addresses.

Traffic

I awoke to the usual rumble of city traffic

and then realised it was the sea two fields away

and for the first time felt sad

for all that is past and all that will never be.

That crash of people was the myriad possibilities

daily breaking on my shore;

the roar of their conflicting energies:

the screeching, bellowing of breaks, exhausts, pistons.

The cacophony of the streets sparking blood flow;

the city a pumping heart;

I turned on my side to hear the traffic in the sea

but there was none.