Index






My father's face




[i] 27.v.15


Such stillness, such straining silence,

such gentle sun rising through the mists

of my awoken soul,

ascending with the lark

to the warm-remembered dreams

of supernatural child,

held in time's embrace,

reflected in the wild laughter

of my father's face.




I hear his voice, and suddenly rejoice

as there across the table in that chair

his eyes meet mine.

And in the blinking of his whiskered eye

his impish smile imparts the gift

of his enduring love.

And my heart sings with the lark,

up there, above.







[ii] 27.v.15


My dad rose early with the sun

and descended daily to the rocks

below the house.

Without least element of fun

he dives straight in! And flocks

of oystercatchers take flight

below the house,

wondering, surely wondering

at the sight.




For brief while beneath the waves

my dad is gone.

But reappears! - and from the caves

burst forth rock doves in wild alarm.

In urgent flight they disappear.

And in my mind I still can hear

my dad returning from his swim.

I am not now the half of him....







[iii] 27.v.15


I never knew the child

my father oncetime was.

I never saw his boyhood face,

nor heard the treble of his voice.




Yet in the stillness of this place,

this hallowed house,

this ghost-filled holy space,

why, here I am that child,

the son I oncetime was.

I feel once more the freshness of my face,

and hear again my little childhood voice

raised in laughter,

innocent and free.




The child my father oncetime was

is me. The groaning age

is only what dull strangers see!










[iv] 28.v.15


There came a day, a slate-grey day,

when light grew light

without the morning sun.

No larks rose, no songs begun,

no flight to heaven as only a skylark may.




No oystercatchers probing in the bay,

and no choughs

grubbing in the clay.

No swifts slicing through the dampened air

with scything wings. No 'daws

riding high the clifftop drafts

with skillful flair.

No noisy rooks, nor black crows' raucous caws.




The day stood still and waited.

Thus came this day, ill-fated.




On the rocks again, my dad,

those rocks below the house.

Now vacantly insane, quite mad,

he dived once more and vanished

from my sight

into that dark that is forever night.




Such stillness, such eternal silence

in my house above those rocks,

those rocks below the house

from which my father leapt.

Yet in this aching stillness,

my senses sharpened by the night,

I feel and touch his presense

still.




In this house above the rocks

where I such anguished tears have wept

I see him in the blindness of my sight

as I, my father's lonely child,

have lonely vigil kept.




Once more he blinks his whiskered eye,

once more his impish grin imparts

the gift of his empowering love,

and my heart sings, again,

my soul rides high

with morning lark,

so high up there in dazzling blue above.




[Cae Rhedyn - end of May 2015]