A Derry Emigrant Poem by Liam ó Comáin

Years ago I left as many did before
For work then was an absent word
In Derry’s homes

In time I found a job
Travelling for hours to steel erect
Then back to an abode
Mingling with the stock of various races
Where until sleep thoughts of home
Were like icicles biting at my heart

Often like a bottle
Dropped into a well
Hope sunk in darkness
Returning and strolling
The Bog’ was not to be

Sadly recalling faces
Like fingers missing from my hand
But an ocean flows between us now
Sundering fates beyond
The grasp of metaphor

For years I have watched
The seasons wane
Bearing the growth of age
Conjuring thoughts of home
Perhaps someone there remembers me....