Camera Fabula
12/03/10
I was with you on the sleigh that day
when the ice lit up your clowned-up face
and snow covered benches reminded
you of boating lakes in spring.
I caught the feeling that filled you
with joy as your first arrow struck
its target at the heart, and your mum
showed you that postcard from Auntie Pat.
I was impressed by the tartan
upon which Granny sat when she let
ice-cream drip down her pinafore, laughing
as she did, before the dog licked it clean.
The elephants and gibbons knew I was there;
they played around, posing for us
like taxidermy models before their time,
ignorant of the hunter’s game.
I endured the effects of colonialism
forcing flags upon smiling children
who knew nothing else and couldn’t
comprehend the pain this caused their elders.
I saw dual nationality amongst pyramids
under the watchful eye of Christ’s likeness,
the sound of Chinooks in the background
- cut from beneath venison skin.
I watched the smile on your face grow
as you realised the trophy vegetables,
lovingly arranged on the garden wall,
reminded you of a Cotan composition.
I held dreams of honeymoon in Paris,
promenades along the moonlit Seine
and diving into private pools;
the first chapter of an eerily empty album.
But it was that look on the seafront
at Blackpool that stopped you in your tracks,
filled your heart with love
and etched majesty in your mind.
How you marvelled at that long white hair.
Enchanted by the way it merged
into crisp white uniform; like
low clouds over freshly powdered pistes.
I travelled with you over lands
by train and plane - often pulled by the dog!
Hand in hand through life’s fairground with
a lover’s look sprawled across your face.
I remembered the recess of the churchyard,
private moments played out tenderly
for the borrowed Brownie. An intimacy
later destroyed through fear of reproach.
I witnessed the marriage to your first mate
under military auspices, but alas what an auspice!
You were proud of the harbour – the ship.
It was your agony to never see them again.
A part of you sank that day too.
I followed to uncharted depths
where, derailed and stripped bare,
you sought solace in other worlds.
The itinerant musician,
the renditions of Pink Moon.
The mysterious twin - hinted at but never discussed;
all the focus of your embattled attention.
One might have called you skiagrapher
how intense was your gaze!
You were looking for someone to blame,
you were afraid of obsolescence.
When you fell it was into loving arms again.
Cushioned by family, the trip to Africa brought
a fresh perspective on the view ahead;
one to smother the flames of despair
and fill your sails with a welcome wind.
With your vision restored you set about
the deconstruction of your past,
determined to build a future framed by the present.
You questioned who I was,
believing I was tainted with death,
and whilst I couldn’t deny the inherent necrology
I showed you life again. Smiling, you saw
death was but a small part of me.
It was here that you left me behind
to face the algorithms of your new world,
unfettered by the lens of mine.
