My house is all whitewashed
whiter than chicken bones left drying
in the noon day sun.
I was five –
when they set you to rest
but here, you still live
my overdue resident, of sometime past.
How many things do I need to remember
outside the love of a father and child?
I suffered from no preconceptions
A child never does –
you offered, and I melted like sugar
so all the children can sing, as we let
the sea wash over us.
On the day they buried you
I played – though never in fun.
I felt it was better than crying
less to make those grown ups mad.
Someone stopped to touch my head
they seemed old
so very, very old
I remember thinking
how long you were dead – you would always be you!
never to be that way:
So I smiled –
as I painted my house white…
26th April 2014