Cleaning the dishes

Cleaning the dishes

(For my good friend Eileen o Brien)

Imagine having to run from home, faster than you thought you could,

In a family of thirteen never alone, running because I knew I should,

Not thinking, where or how far, even to whom you could turn,

Guided by non-existent stars, if caught I would surely feel the burn,

Finding safety in another home, hidden well under a sink if you will,

Dishes and I were never alone, warm water tap running, the sink to fill,

None other than Eileen, (MA) o Brien, who swore she never saw me,

It never mattered what I did, or how disruptive I had been,

Under her sink is where I hid, my poor old mam sight unseen,

For me and my ally Eileen were truly at war, or so to me it seemed,

Hiding here would at least stave off my tears, a Hurley at home made from solid wood,

Yes, this was my safe haven for years, an ally in the war of childhood,

My mother, the enemy chasing me most days, her with thirteen kids to rear,

Childhood was for me at times a haze, filled with running and lots of tears,

I never made it easy on my mam, I didn’t know I was supposed to?

Every chance I got I ran, didn’t care if I ended up black and blue,

Safety I knew, under a solid sink, Eileen doing her daily chores,

Swearing to my mam if she could only think, I may have passed through her doors,

Almost a hundred, is my savoir Eileen, still going out for the odd drink,

Lives in the same house, same kitchen, new dishes, same sink,

Mind a little slower, harder it is to think, behind her eyes though, still good wishes,

Life ebbs a flows, people come and go, but my savoir remains doing her dishes,

I may not have made it through that war, Yes the war that was my childhood,

Eileen, but for you I’d never have got far from the Hurley made from wood,

May god bless you and that fine sink, washed many a plate over my head,

Who would think, sat safely under there no fear nor dread,