Home on the Road

On the road to Azrou
I passed to and fro'
Between the spring countryside
And a light slumber

Squashed in the back
Of a battered "grand taxi"
I feel strangely comfortable
As we journey along

Through the Mid-Atlas
And an array of hills
One of which I suddenly take
For Howth Head

Outside the Moorish landscape
Unfurls its harsh beauty
But all I see
Are the shores of Dublin bay

So even though I'm far away
Sitting in a car with strangers
Who speak in a tongue
I cannot comprehend

It's comforting to know
That a little bit of home
Is with me
Always

Gavin Doyle - Morocco - February 2000

The Last of the Wild Geese

Bask in melancholy joy
Oh sons and daughters of Eireann
Take solace in your solitude
Exalt in your exile

We are the last generation
Of global wanderers
Celtic tigers have ravaged
The soul of our land

No more Wanderlust survives
Wealth accumulation
Will yet make us poor

Rejoice in your rejection
Take comfort in your condition
Banished abroad by your own choosing
In search of what lost generations have felt

Today we laugh at our descendants
Who seek us out from across the foam
For cosmopolitans are we
In need of no home

Just a healthy bank balance
A house, a car on loan
In a rush to be Western
Modern et al.
Nouveaux Européens
We try to stand tall

Ashamed of our "begorrah" past
Sometimes rightly so
We set sail for an exotic future
But let the present go

Slip and slide
Through the tips of our digits
As we remould our old country
Into a nondescript land

Not, I, mo chairde
Not I, my friends
Not I, mes amis
I shall remain aloof

The last of the Irishmen abroad
An unwanted reminder
But living proof

Gavin Doyle - Mali - April 2000

Calm Embrace

Lying on the edge
Waves break their backs on the shore
Waters end their journey
From another continent

Palm trees sprout up in unison
Attentive like border guards
Patrolling a starry sky
Above the Indian Ocean

The sound of the foam
Alone disrupts the calm
Of a welcoming silence
Warmth surrounds
Sand engulfs
Sparse clouds gaze down
On a tranquil beach

From these heavenly environs
Nature springs a surprise
Reveals herself at once
Her awesome tropical beauty

And makes me aware
Once again
How small
How trivial
But how damn lucky
I am

Gavin Doyle - Tanzania - May 2000

If Only

The time draws close now
The race is all but run
Sands drop at pace through glass
The long voyage home is almost done

I can't say that I feel sad
It's too soon for that now for me
The memories are too fresh to recall
The past too present to see

Time to pull back from the road
And embrace normality
The humdrum, the run of the mill,
Sweet regularity

Let the rucksack gather dust
As cobwebs envelope my tent,
The adventurer's gallop is through
The nomad's swagger is spent

With photos to be viewed
And tales to be told
I grow old, I grow old,
I shall wear my trousers rolled

Regrets?  None to date
Some times were lonely, others great

But if I live till I go grey
Rocking slowly, warm and comely,
Looking back I'll never say,
If only...if only

Gavin Doyle - New Zealand - January 2001