This poem is dedicated to those persons who suffered and/or died in the blast at the Brussels Airport last week.

Return
By John Herlihy

The blast sounded, but what I saw was light;
No time to listen, not a moment even for fright.
Standing once in the air terminal on a quiet Spring day,
Talking to my companion, listening to what he would say.
Then lifted to the edge of the world by an evil hand,
I am dazed, confused, wondering what else I must withstand.

Around every corner lies the mystery of imminent return,
In the present lies the future as a place of timely sojourn.
In moving forward we are actually moving steadily back;
In moving backward we are returning to earth’s primal sack.
Time’s arrow has momentarily stopped in this embrace of shock;
The future has receded into the past as I assess and take stock.

My life streaks across my vision as a flash of lightening;
Something is twinkling; the darkness seems to be brightening.
In comic books, the visuals show stars to suggest dazed surprise;
In truth, I knew I was staring into consciousness at my own demise.
Everything that I value seemed to be gone; I was going astray.
A decision now confronted me; I was slipping far, far away.

The mystery of return lies embedded within everything we do;
We return home as prodigal sons wishing for mother’s stew.
As homing pigeons, we fly into the past to retrieve some lost happiness;
As fire flies, with search the dark of the future to escape some sadness.
As pigeons or fire flies, we experience a compelling need to return.
To that lost essence, to Shangri-la, to the heart whose embers still burn.

Lest there is any doubt, let me make myself perfectly clear;
A bomb has exploded, shattering the safe reality we hold dear
An earthly heaviness gives way to the spirit of eternal lightness;
I am nothing but breath, drawing in the vision of brightness.
The amazing world of physical reality now seems worlds apart,
From this new reality that reaches up then down, deep into my heart.

The moment of return has now unexpectedly arrived;
A decision must be made raising questions whether I survive.
I hear the sound of a voice, distant and clear, somebody;
The sound of my own life reluctantly leaving the wasted body.
Instead of eternal peace, the voice raises the possibility of return;
To a life once lived whose candle was not yet fully burned.

The mystery of consciousness awakens into the chaos of now;
I am awake, still breathing, pain everywhere, I survive somehow.