Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Dada’s Seed 2:

I was the eldest of the two sons born to Dada
and to Mam but I will not see the light,
not after today, my Dada has shoved me
in a hessian sack and, with Nuncle Pat,
to the river he now drags me.

The Hessian sack’s opening
is tied tight like a white knuckled fist
holding the universe closed
so the big, big bang
fizzles, splutters and goes out.

In the bag I cling to the memory
of the brightest sunlight
and try not to replay over
and again the  howling screams
of my poor old tortured Mam:

She who cried and screamed
and best fists upon Nuncle Pat’s back
and Dada’s head; received back a slap
and a kick and then fell
to the ground uncomforted and defeated.

I pleaded with my Dada but this is what he said,
‘Fear not my son, or do, but fear not for long
soon the hessian with breathe in water
and your soft lungs will lose the battle -
I’ll be sad to see you go

but not as sad as the relentless pain
my memories of my own Da bring to me
and so you see, drowning son of mine,
we pass on the pain  - seed to seed,
deed by deed, so adieu then drowning one.’

The ground tries to hold on to me -
I feel its earthy fingers in every bump and scrape
and I know the water will not be so kind;
it will gently devour me
where the land has only held me upright.

And then I heard my Dada’s voice one final time
as he cried again, ‘good bye my son,’
And Nuncle Pat gave me a favorable kick
and shouted ‘you could have been
the best of the lot of ‘em.’

I feel my body in the sack
lifted high like a leaf upon the wind
and then I feel the movement in the hurl,
feel the weigh leave me for a moment
and then the sound of water and sack colliding.

I sink and it grows darker by the moment
as I am embraced by the cold clammy hands
of water - or is that of death –
spreading across my skin, and soon,
I know, into the very heart of me.

‘Oh my Dada, this did not have to be,
Oh my Mam how can you
have chosen this man as the sower
of your seeds, could you not see the deeds
in the shadows of his smile?’

The darkness is all but complete now, the water
wipes the air from my chest, takes my life
along with it, I feel it now
gushing out past my toes and
my shivering finger tips.

Into the vortex, into the hessian’s oblivion,
into the sound of the river and of maws
of the worms awaiting me
and I wish I could have held the hand
of my babe brother one final time.

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