Uit: Walking The Road
„FRANK: Hear the whispers of men whose bodies were never found. I was a blind mouse tussled up in a grain sack, scurrying about with no way in and no way out.
COMPANION: I wanted someone to hold me amid the bullets and screaming.
FRANK: I want someone to find my remains – a splintered skull and some buttons, two rows of teeth biting into a rusted identity tag.
COMPANION: (Rises) Feel them pass, Frank? Another shoal of souls from Ypres, another flock of swallows searching for Africa. Always at the end, one confused soul is struggling to keep up, clinging onto the past, unable to accept that it’s simply too cold to stay here. It’s time you took flight too, Frank, time to try and walk this road home again.
FRANK: I don’t know how. I’m still just not ready.
COMPANION: Think of one night, Frank. One night when you knew you were truly walking home.
FRANK: Creeping down the back stairs of Mr Daly’s shop, crossing the main street of Rathfarnham village, walking through the dark of South Dublin. (He rises and starts to walk around the extremities of the stage) I carry my first poem close to my breast and I’m walking home. Will I be there by daybreak?
COMPANION: We’ll all be there by daylight. There and back again, Sir.
FRANK: (Approaches COMPANION, as they are both facing each other, centre stage) For ninety years now I have been walking home. My name is Wolfgang and I am walking home. My name is Hans and Gunter and Gabriel…
COMPANION: (Overlapping with him) My name is Alasdair and Alexander and Dirk and Dieter.
FRANK: My name is Frederick and Flavio and Fritz and Felix.
COMPANION: My name is Jan and Jonas and Jasper and Jammet.
FRANK and the COMPANION turn to face the audience, side by side.
FRANK: My name is forgotten by every living being. I have lost my legs and arms.
COMPANION: The mustard gas in my lungs still burns even though my lungs were eaten by worms.“
Dermot Bolger (Dublin, 6 februari 1959)