Moments

the next day the same church

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yesterday bright clothes in the summertime I cried
at the wedding of slightly known people found joy
it was her parents we knew
her parents our friends

in the church close thick heat
children playfully running
babies are crying for milk or for comfort

as he walks through the door the bride’s father is ready to burst
happy for him and for her and for hundreds
for hours we eat and we drink and we dance and we talk and we talk for hours

today dark sky dark clothes
thin rain falling
sudden sombre faces in shade

same people same church
same people in church
a deeper silence a heavier air
voices older
voices quieter
yet stronger in prayer

we say goodbye and god be with you
we say goodbye and god be with us
we say goodbye and god please help us
we say goodbye forever

The longer the sun (summer equinox 19)

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The longer the sun is in the sky,
the longer you are not here.

When the world is dark from end to end,
the hills shoulder-firm against the rising of the light,
the space where you are not is dull.

But in the light,
shadows sharp-lined across the floor and sheets,
the emptiness is marked.

Though hope may be,
you lack.

Father’s Day 2019

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You smiled quietly when we gave you a card, cleared your throat and said thanks. We found them all you know, when we were clearing the loft, all in date order (you’d pencilled the date on each envelope), held together with a rubber band, wrapped in plastic and sellotaped down. I’m not sure why we all wrote this one.

But you said

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It was not your ghost, of course not,
you have not passed.
But the thought of you, the spirit of you,
the word you had given to be here.

From the empty bed, pillow unpressed,
to the empty cup, no coffee in the kitchen air,
the space where you should have been,
the emptiness of your promise is my companion.

Waves of haar rolled in

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Waves of haar rolled in on the witching wind. Evening birdsong died away. For the first time ever he dared take her hand and she held his tighter than he had ever hoped. In silence they stood and walked away, glad of the quiet mist. Tomorrow the sun would shine.

Beach night

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The beach stones are thousand-year smooth, grey light grey when the clouds clear the moon, black as the night when the misting returns. The sky-black sea crashes foam white at its border. If there are voices, they are distant, both in place and time.