Monday, 18 July 2016

Coming down

We walked that morning, you, tired, wrapped
in hospital blankets, the newborn too, out
the whishing glass doors of the hospital - you could take
no more; into the fine drizzle, falling…covering trees
like tinsel. I carried Mary, you beside me, four-year old Jack
in front, laughing, always laughing, his being open
to the world, like grass pushing towards sunlight and rain
with not a thought to the roots left behind.

On down the empty road we walked, not far,
we lived in the same street as the hospital
and wondered as we walked if anyone else ever
walked home nowadays. Holding Mary, watching Jack,
feeling you beside me, I felt like Moses descending, cradling
the tablets that set the whole of his world up before him.

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