House. Hold. Man. Age. Meant.
Well. Well, whoever would have
guessed? Not me, when I was up
and away, running and running off
steam, that I’d return to a house to run,
the one I ran from forty-odd years back.
Now resounding, rolling round and
round the block, the wo(r)ld follows,
shouting curses, blessings, woundings,
winding me back here where I began.
Only courage lets me remain, lets me rest,
to maintain the stiff demeanour of brick
veneer by which I was raised. Rest and all
the rest is easy always. Words to swear by,
words to return here, open-handed. Home.
I’m also reading the poem on http://qarrtsiluni.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/kemp-man-date-podcast.mp3
Photo: Robert McMaster. Top photo of Gavin, me and son Jake: Amanda Chalmers.