Comments about Nuala Harding
Haven’t I sat in this room a million times?
And squinted as the sun flooded in
And watched as the rain slid down
And stared as the snow settled,
Magically white in the same corners of
The same windows.
Haven’t I walked down this corridor every day?
And been shoved through the same door
And been bumped by the same bags
And shuffled along behind everyone else,
As I stared aimlessly at
The same floor.
Haven’t I run around this field before?
And prayed for it to be over
And got further and further behind
And gulped water like I was dying, ...