I wake up and it is still there

It follows me where ever I go

Into the shower and my place of work

Up upon the bar stools and around the town

Even in my dreams it comes as I approach the age of 40

 

Oh my God there is no escape from it

And I was certain it was temporary and it could be ‘cured’

So the doctors and specialists must have been right

But rather than fight it I have learned to life it

Dare I say appreciate it and the creativity it can bring

And in spite of all the Hellish states of mind

If it left tomorrow I would be in sorrow

To miss this dear friend of mine

My constant companion that will never leave

 

But while out running the back lanes and country roads it remains some distance far behind

And even further if I were to be cycling

Or better still, dug in deep and writing.

 

~ Gamhain MacCionaoith 

Na Cealla Beaga 

Mí Bealtaine 2025