My father died in 1983 far too young and extraordinarily brave in the midst of the debilitating mess that had become his life. I found this note book whilst tidying my study and in it were ‘poems’ I had scribbled whilst raging with upset and grief. Rather than just leaving them in the book going yellower by the month here are several that still resonate. I am still learning how to miss him and I do.
3/5/84
And then you went away.
Frozen pictures
And still waters
Letters returned unread.
I am here I think again.
Loving summer
just the sameness
I do not hope to know.
16/9/84
In our unknowing
Tunnel. Between two
alien caverns,
We met. And spoke a language
they could not understand.
Where you may go now
Behind the rocks,
Imagined, printed guides;
You know
Alone, Not I.