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.

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