I dread the visit
This isn’t the place for introductions
A new great grand child, little Tilly
Though she’ll never remember today
It’s the atmosphere of living amongst
The piss, the shit, the dying and the dead
Each having his own struggle with
Fear, confusion, disorientation and numbness.
And that’s it are we living or existing
Filling in time before they fill it in on us.
The child is divine, perfect in every way
So much the image of my own daughter
It is through the eyes of the young that
We get to see what has become of us
What we leave behind, if anything.
The child Tilly squirms in my arms
Settles and looks up at me
Into the face of a wizened old crone.
‘Forgive me child I don’t look my best
My looks disappeared so long ago
Now I’m old but so pleased you stopped by.
Be gentle on yourself, there is so much out there
To worry over, so go steady
Love and live, care and be grateful
Life is precious, nurture it always.
They stayed a while longer than I thought
Then gathered the child,
I kissed her one last time
Watched as they exited my confined world
And stepped into the tangle of the new world
Where the child would make her way
In times unknown, mystery abounding
Love I hope always at the ready.
I lay back in my bed
I close my eyes as the evening stench
Seeps and oozes its way into my room
Where no amount of air freshener
Makes the slightest difference.
Outside I watch the world happen
Inside I feel it dying.