I had many happy days in Knock
We always stayed in the caravan site
Day and night it was full of the sky
Stars ran about and our hearts would shout
Where else could we see such a sight
Not in Bel fast that was for sure
Brits running crazy was as good as it got
Kicking down doors
No knocking gently to dig up floors
They’d call us whores and we’d call them
And they didn’t like that!
Earlier this year I went back
To gather up memories
I thought I had stored
But it was gone
All the caravans we
stayed in over the years
Not believing my eyes I
Remembering each caravan as
A station of the cross.
How now could I cope with such a
Each one disappeared, buried feared unliveable.
The site looked like Bel fast on a bad
Should I stay or leave now, I thought
Even the night sky could not mask what had happened
back home, I knew the loss was too great
too enormous, I discarded the memories because
They had been bombed and destroyed
Would my memory ever survive this, I wondered?
I don’t remember the caravans, I once knew –
Nor a sky that turns black into blue.