It’s 1987
and I’m my first year
at Queen’s University.
I’m far, far from home
and, unfortunately,
by not getting a place
in the university halls of residence
I’ve become separated
from school friends.

One day I meet these friends
in the students’ union.
“Guess what we did last night?”
they demand excitedly
and I listen keenly
to hear about
their latest antics.
“We booked tickets
to see Chris de Burgh
in Dublin!” they exclaim.

I tell them that I’m delighted,
of course,
and congratulate them
on their wonderful plan.

But secretly
I’m absolutely devastated.
I’m a huge fan
of Chris de Burgh
and would have dearly loved
to be going to the concert as well
but I wasn’t around
when my friends hatched their plan
and so I got left out –
a simple case of
out of sight, out of mind.

Now, over thirty years later
my husband, Paul, surprises me one day
with a wonderful present –
a pair of tickets
to see Chris de Burgh
in Belfast!

I go to the concert with Paul
and we watch, fascinated,
as Chris de Burgh whips the crowd
up into a frenzy
during almost three hours of song.

Wow – Such a night!

A night of Chris de Burgh music
and for me,
a night for healing
a very old wound
inflicted through thoughtlessness
and healed through love.

© Claire Murray, 27th October 2019