Ramblings

Joseph Anthony Gerard Morrissey

Not being there

When I was young

Waiting for visits

That would never come

Going to School

Keeping to myself

Reaching Eighteen

Still not there

Making a life, a career

You must be somewhere

Then, I find you

Not by choice, but by a need

Trying to reconnect

But gone again

Years pass

I have a daughter now

A daughter, I love

 I want to tell you

I phone,

You fly,

You visit

Then out of my life again

Years pass

And I travel to you

Good times we had

Then life returns

Then you visit

I let you stay

Things are good

But it all goes astray

Not talking

Silence between us

No visits,

No contact

My daughter and I

Heard you’re somewhere

I let it pass us by

A call

A bolt from the blue

A hand reaching out

What should I do?

A visit

A fleeting glimpse

Trying to justify why

I should try

Seeing you there

Weak and alone

Wanting to hold you

Not wanting to get close

A Doctor’s words

A nurse’s hug

A mother’s look

A son’s….

Another visit

Is it too late?

Words are exchanged

Is it too late?

Two fathers together

It wasn't too late

Then you’re gone

How do I feel

Destroyed?

No.

Angry?

No.

Upset?

No.

In love?

Yes.

In Love.

We made our peace.

You are my Dad.

---

GUARDIAN

For how long have you stood there,

Opposing the forces of nature and men?

Your sleek yet sturdy body,

From somewhere way back then.

Your skin as hard as iron,

And as unyielding as steel.

You have protected thousands,

With your determined will.

Now, after long years of silence,

You begin to weep.

Thinking of yourself forgotten,

My friend, my guardian, my keep.

---

MORNING SUN

The great bird shuddered,
Her engines spluttering to life.
The men looked at each other,
Thoughts turning to family and wives.

The great bird lifted,
Reaching cruising height.
As the men wondered,
If they would return this night.

The great bird flew,
On towards her enemy.
Below darkening cloud,
Above rolling sea.

The great bird banked,
As explosions shook the night.
The sound of Hell,
With Heaven's Light.

The great bird soared,
And, with target below,
Her cargo was loosed.
And she turned for home.

The great bird survived,
Carrying seven mothers sons.
Who now stood thankful,
In the early morning sun.

---

SNOW

Winters evening

Cascading Heavenly vaults

White carpets abound

---

SPLASH OF COLOUR

I sit beside a fallen tree, looking across my field that has been transformed, these past years. My once lush, emerald pasture has been replaced with a patchwork of myriad browns. My once proud trees lie twisted and broken, like so much mangled machinery, spread without any thought or care. Diffused sunlight causes the timber frames and mangled steel of rotting machines, to appear to dance before me, like ghostly silhouettes on the uneven ground. Water by the diffused sunlight. Water, which fills the pits and troughs, reflects the dull colourless sky, adding to my sombre mood. My heart feels heavy. Nothing moves. Nothing lives.

But, suddenly, there is clarity. The droplets from the fine rain, acting like a lens, focus my attention. Among the detritus, at the edge of the field, is there movement? Do my eyes deceive? I resist blinking, trying to focus on the apparition before me. Finally, I blink and the from takes shape. The shape of a man. A man who is staring at me, as though he can see into my soul. My body aches as I rise to my feet. I feel the figure watching me, as I make my way into the field, if can still be called that.

My progress is hindered by the thick mud, which sucks at my boots, threatening to pull me into the bowels of the Earth. The figure before me turns, heading toward the centre of the quagmire, seeming to float across the surface. My breath becomes laboured, as my ageing body fights to keep me moving forward. As we get closer to the centre, the figure seems to undulate in-and-out of focus. A wave of nausea sweeps through me as the figure turns and holds my gaze. Tears fill his eyes as he dips his head. With a last great effort I step forward, throwing my arms around him. But he disappears and I topple into the mud. 

The sun, which has finally won its battle with the clouds, breaks through and warms  the ground around me. As I fight my way up and out of the decaying ground I notice a splash of colour. As my eyes try to focus, and my mind works to make sense of everything, exactly where the figure had stood, is a flower, swaying in the gentle breeze. The sun illuminating the thin wisp-like stalk, topped with blood-red petals. Somehow, against all the odds, surviving in the mud and detriment... a Poppy.