Billy Fenton Droichead na nDeoir

Droichead na nDeoir

billy fenton

Droichead na nDeoir (Bridge of Tears) is in the Donegal mountains. In the nineteenth century, emigrants to the U.S. said goodbye to their families at this bridge. Many of them would never see each other again.

A stream bites through Muckish gap. At the bridge, you can’t see back, or forward. Only the slopes. Heather. Sky. Like it has always been.

We crossed it each morning on our way to work. Each evening when we returned. Maybe a thousand times or more.

We planned a home. Argued. Sometimes just sat in silence. Every evening we came back, to the rest of our lives together.

I cross the Bridge of Tears, lean over the wall, stare at the pictures tossed back by the water. Your hospital bed.

You wake. You touch my face. I touch yours. Fall back into sleep. Never guessed it was our final goodbye.

Above me at the mountain gap, the road vanishes. Hands in clay. New plants growing. Dirty wellies. Blue boat skimming the waves.

Two naked bodies under the sky on a bed of mountain heather.