Dublin by Jennifer deBie

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Dublin
by Jennifer deBie

Texas, Ireland, California

Someone once told me it wasn’t named after the Irish one,
that the name came from pioneers,
the way settlers doubled-in their wagons at night.
Concentric rings against the dark, 
the wild,
they came to tame.

Cork’s better, I mutter the second time a tourist stumbles into us.
Crossing Temple Bar, headed to the quay,
Michelle reminds me that I didn’t have to come to the capital for Paddy’s. 
and then, when a pack of Trinity kids dressed as ninja turtles wade past, 
we giggle, know that’s a lie.

A friend in an unfamiliar city with a very familiar name
asks for a poem and I write him a blessing instead.

May you find traditions. 
May they make you laugh. 
May you find the courage, 
for your future in your past.
May your hills always be green. 
May your gin always be strong.
May the path beneath be smooth, 
and your journey sweet, and long.

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