Stephen’s Green Luas,, Dublin 1 yesterday
Poet Kevin Higgins writes:
I am one of what the government and health experts call the “specially vulnerable”, in the sense that I have sarcoidosis in my lungs and am on strong immunosuppresant drugs for the condition. Below is a new poem inspired by the feeling of being left behind, because of my status, as the rest of society gets ready to get going again.
I dream I’m watching the morning train
rattle down the platform without me.
Pale and panting from the chase, I sit
steaming on the floor which smells
of Euston, Liverpool Street, Waterloo;
realise that like
an ultra Orthodox Rabbi,
a Miners’ Union shop steward,
or a veteran of the Franco-Prussian War,
I’m what will be swept away;
my ticket sweating unredeemed
in a back pocket;
as the world rushes on to get
wherever it next must.