Míchealín Daugherty

dear old woman
with nonjudging eyes
i’ll not forget you
‘though i knew not your name
nor you mine
i was with those
who needed a safe house
and you, wrappedinknittedshawl
opened your door
unquestioning

you must have thought
me a foreigner
when i spoke, yet
kindness never left your face
as they whispered
in that adjacent room
you took my hand,
and led me to the warmth
of the turf fire
unquestioning

dear old woman
i’ll not forget
the crisp applelike air
i’ll not forget the
glow of that wooden floor
i’ll not forget the clean
earthy smell of burning turf
there is nothing,
nothing like it

i want to come home