the return

(inflection point)

jacketed men take time off today in the heat, 
to model their planes of desire 
    in spirals spun of freedom— 
 from boxed disguise     

all along, all along
we belonged to this— 
            unearthly bliss

      summer ebbs to solstice, 
    we are in the air—
  folding backwards, 
inwards, to ethereal embrace—

a return
   from tongue-tied words— 

soft,      so soft 
I hear music      long after the music stops

Alliums are the name of this elegant tall purple flower at the Bloom festival, June 2025 

Defiant art, Phoenix Park Dublin 

I wrote this piece last June after I passed some model plane enthusiasts in the Phoenix Park in Dublin. As I watched the planes soar and twist up into the air, and drop back down ... my thoughts drifted to what freedom is. 

I was out last night with a college friend from the west, who I know 34 years (!!) and we had a short but wholesome catchup which I really enjoyed. Another Galway friend, who I know from all those years ago at 17, was up the previous month. These meet-ups have felt timely, rare and nourishing. 

On parting last night I heard myself say 'this is the return'. I meant the part of our lives we're now in, an inflection point, perhaps in the world too. There's a growing awareness, consciousness perhaps, coming into view. Let me know what you feel about a sense of a 'return'. 

I've been pulled away from Substack of late, but hope to get back and write something new next week. I enjoyed Joseph Massey's post on Poetry is the Antidote (I might add that love is the drug!)