Wherever You Woke
by Dermot Bolger

There only ever was one street
     One back garden, one bedroom:
Wherever you woke you woke beneath
     The ceiling where you were born,
For the briefest unconscious second
     An eyelid’s flutter from home.

I found this in a compilation called Soho Square Six the first time I went to Ireland.  I was a college student, and I was achingly homesick and very very happy by turns. Bolger’s words comforted me in exactly the moment I needed them, and I managed to scrounge up enough cash to buy another large book I’d have to tote around and squeeze into my luggage. 

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