memoirs, art and fragments by Thomas Milner

Archive for January 7, 2012

At the hospital

We all stood around our father’s body,

Laid out like an ancient Patriarch,

Unseeing eyes tilted towards acceptance,

Grieving.

 

Later I sat by the garden-waters and wept,

Remembering how he used to show me

His books, family treasures, one by one.

 

I then returned to my own place,

Tranquil in the hot season

Dry wind sighing through pine and eucalyptus.

 

But worming through the myriad-mazes

Of my dreams crept an uninvited guest,

The intimation of my mortality.

FRENCH VILLAGE CHURCH by my father ROBERT HUGH MILNER

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