The Irishman's Longing by Dale Hall

The Irishman's Longing

If I were Land’s End, you

would be John o’ Groats. This

is not how it began, we were

as inseparable as fish and chips

our usual Friday feast. I do

not know when the tectonic plates

began to shift, how this geological

phenomenon occurred. One minute

you were a wee sapling who needed

shielding from wind and rodents;

constant nurturing. Now, you are the

most majestic of oaks. You provide me

shade and shelter. When did

the axis tilt? How I yearn to

bridge this gap, but I lack

the vocabulary, and I’m handicapped by my

hubris. I have so many questions.

You used to come to me for everything.

Now I have no utility for you. When

did this happen, why, please tell me

why. Can’t you see it in my eyes.

Of course not, because now you

have your sapling. Heed my warning

son, stay constantly curious and

permanently present or else you

may wake up wondering. Why.

How.