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Before I started out here
My father said:
Do you need to go all that way
To come back here, to know what to say?
I turned my eyes to the ground
Wondering if he was thinking of death
To that, I had no answer for him.

And, now, here:
Unable to concentrate
I remember all this and wonder:
Do I have to drag him
Out here as well?

But he can’t leave me alone.
So – I wonder:
Out there,
Now, he has laid his head
On the pillow, hours ago.
(It will be close on midnight there, now).
And his life-long tools of occupation
– the hoe, the axe and the spade
Ask him no questions by the threshold,
Out of the rusting night dew.
And here:
My three pens
And this blank page
Glare back at me
In the harsh electric light.
And suddenly –
My father is standing there:
Have we put any food
On the table today?