Irish Raindrops



Today I dressed in worn out black jeans, a T-shirt that reads “Bored in the USA” and went to work. The day was heavy and it weighed hard on your shoulders. Although there was no sunshine on my route to work, people around me (including myself) were glowing in sweat across their wrinkled foreheads. The clouds hung dull and lifeless after two weeks of slender sunshine spilling its rays all over Ireland. As you may have heard, us Irish people never really experience true heat from the sun. We usually live our days complaining about the rain and how we never get good weather. This is evident for nearly every day of Irish weather – and yet we still haven’t gotten used to it.

It had gotten to the stage where I was wondering when the rain would ever return. As I previously mentioned, we do not experience this kind of heat in Ireland; or good weather in general. So it started to change us. I don’t remember the last time I wore a dress without tights and felt happily content in doing so. No, this weather was euphoric. Not today however, today was different. Some appeared to be drained by the thick presence of the humidity levels while others skipped around in their shorts and their tank tops hopeful of the suns arrival.

When I finished work I had all of the intents of buying a new book. I left my building and thought I would need an inhaler it was that difficult to breathe. The clouds themselves felt as though they were penetrating my lungs with hot air. It felt as though the very core of our planet was cracking through the seems, its lava about to erupt and become one with the sun.I had to sit down and prepare myself for this musky walk to my bus.

As I continued on my way I felt slight wetness dropping on my arms. Not enough to call rain, but there was definitely something happening. The drops landed on my skin warm, they had passed through our atmosphere and were heated by Dublin city. I brushed the drops off and didn’t think much more about it. I went into a shop to top up my Leap card (travel card for public transport) and heard elderly women asking one another if they brought their umbrellas – sure enough they had. I poked my head out of the shop door and it was as if the Gods above had heard my thoughts. The heavens had opened with a mighty clash. Heavy, speedy, cold rain drops were puncturing the soil like it had missed the Irish ground.

I left the shop, no hood, no umbrella, just a Tshirt. Just then a group of boys all dressed in colourful summer shorts and sunglasses started to laugh and cheer that the rain had arrived. People were exchanging smiles to one another at the boys reaction.Not one person was dry as the rain swept everyone off their feet. My hair was dripping and others make up was running. In my mind I knew at that moment that we as Irish people belong in this atmosphere. I could not stop smiling at how everyone’s attitude instantly had changed in the heart of Dublin city. A couple didn’t bother to cover their heads from the rain, instead they danced in it. They danced like we were in a country where rainfall was a luxury. They danced like they had been waiting for rain all of their lives. They danced to the joyous occasion that was always there.

And of course, in days to come, everyone will forget this moment. The moment that rain returned to Ireland only after about ten days of being absent. People will continue to complain about our crappy weather. Yet in my heart, I will always remember the smiles that Irish raindrops brought.

Deceptive Dust


I have been engulfed by these deep sensations,

Trickling through my soul like a meditation,

Where have the sane ones vanished,

Under a rock – no, yet a different planet.

Will I ever speak much sense?

To those who feel the worth and those who repent

For miseries yet to feel,

I will cherish the moments that I realise were real.


Never yet shall I fall,

Only to appear softly on clouds to whisper

“My mind hath never rested, and now I lull”.


Calm my soul and my brain like a deep sea yet to claim

I will stand on this earth and take what is mine,

For the night is near and so shall we.

Although I stand my soul shall flea,

I cry ‘atop the mountain peak,

“Where O where shall I appear? God above I hold you so dear.

Yet could it be us, your creations, that you fear?

Come, please, come! Show me that you are tangible

And I will fall to your grace and make myself untangled.”


Waiting for something that compares to air.

Not evident to the eye but there to the skin,

Never will I witness your touch or your caress,

I will choose to stay in total bliss.