Intro

I make you a promise,
That I will make it real,
And that when it is done,
And it never will be done....

When I'm producing work
Worthy of you, and of myself,
I will finally accept
Your love and approval.

Prelude

Running.
I was running.
Running your errand.
Running with scissors.
Didn't mean it.
Points piercing your palm,
Sharper than a serpent's tooth.
I'm not ungrateful.
I didn't mean it.
Running scared.

No words.
Mouth open, but no words,
Just the dreadful gasping for air.
Fear choking my throat.
I didn't mean it.
I hear the words in my head.
They can't break out through the fear.
Sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Sorry, Mummy.
Hiding.
Smaller.
(I'm small).
Make myself smaller.
(I'm four).
Hide myself.
She'll find me.
She always does.
I didn't mean it.

Solo

Hiding in full sight,
Swinging here,
Safe in the garden.
Singing to myself.

Practising
Not being seen,
Not being in the way.
Avoiding the fighting.

Words

I remember the words
I hated to hear,
Year upon year,
Never fading,
Hurting me,
When I vowed not to let them.
Words spoken before their meaning
Was clear

School

Why can't you be more like your sister?
(Because I'm not her.)
Her work is always neat.
She brings it in on time.
(She doesn't have to try.)
Why can't you be?
(Because I'm ME.)

Dont you understand?
She's the clever one,
The one who will go to university,
Be the high flyer,
The one with brains.

I'm just me,
Useless,
Living in her shadow.
I can't match up.
I don't try anymore.
I dread reports,
Parents' nights
At the same school,
With the same teachers
Who teach her,
Who expect more of the same,
Then get me.

Why can't you be
More like your sister?
I don't want to be!
I want you to love me
For being me.

Aria

I sit playing the piano,
Not for me,
But yes, for me, too,
Always for me.

Playing the melody
For you to learn.
You can't read the music,
But you can sing it better
Than anyone I know.

Is this the secret behind the
Saturday theory classes I hated,
While my friends were at the movies,
And I battled with pizzicato and sostenuto?

The sounds of my childhood,
Locked in vinyl time capsules.
Celeste Aida,Vesti la Giubba.
Your voice rattled the chandeliers
In our local catholic church
When you were lifting the choir,
Or drowning it.
Your natural gift
Blessed all of us.

Girl in a Suitcase

I lie here, working out
What I should pack
Into the suitcase under the bed.
Thinking about
How quickly I could get away,
If it all became too much,
Escape imperative.

Only the things I really need,
Or can't live without.
Will the Panda fit in?
It has a zip around the top.
It's small.
It can't hold everything.

What do I have of value, anyway?
I can't take the piano.
I don't have any photos.
My guitar has its own case.
Not much to show for my life,
Too many memories,
Not enough clothes.

Overture

Memories of you flow into an overture
Filled with themes and swelling melodies.
Quiet moments and crashing cymbals,
I can't think of you without music
Running as a background
Through my head.

When you sang quietly,
You didn't have the technique of some,
Or the knowledge of others,
Or the repertoire,
But in those beautiful notes
Lay all the wonder of my childhood.

And when you opened your throat
You filled the hall with power,
Vibrating the window panes,
Making me shiver,
Rooting your listeners to their seats.

Generous payment
For my playing,
That thrill was mine -
Audience of one -
Hearing you sing.

Fireworks

Pebbles crunch and slide
Beneath my baseball boots.
The sea locker, rusted at the corners,
Opens stiffly, like an old man
Standing from his television chair,
Ready for bed.
It, too, has seen better days.

We build a fire,
From the shed we pulled down
To make room for the garage.
The shards are like broken teeth
In the car's gaping boot.
In the light, the stretch of water
We can see, just beyond the pebbles,
Slowly creeps up, then retreats.
It won't put out the fire tonight.

An old tin kettle sings on the primus stove.
Mugs of tea are passed round the group of adults.
There's treacle toffee, homemade,
For the children running about,
Too excited to stand still and watch.
I'm not a child.
Where do I fit?
I tell myself that's not a question for now.
Don't start down that road tonight.
Enjoy the rare sight,
The once a year delight
Of the beach fireworks.

Performance

We took the wrong turning off the M4,
Ended up going north
Instead of homeward,
With no time for mistakes.
It had to be my fault, of course.
You said watch for the exit,
I watched.
It didn't say north or south.
Long way round for a short cut.

Now we are late.
Late getting home,
(I didn't even go in the house)
My music and evening dress,
Still in the cleaner's plastic bag,
Handed into the car by Mum,
(She's going to give me hell, afterwards).
Trying to sort the music in the car,
Changing my shoes as you drive.
No chance to do my hair.
Late to the theatre, the show's started.
Getting into my dress
As I run up the stairs
To the wings by the stage.
I can see the audience.
I can see you in the chorus.
A smile of relief and exasperation.

I hear my cue,
Step out into the spotlight,
Trying to get enough breath.
I walk forward and smile at the conductor
(He will give me hell, afterwards).
Thank God I hit that first note right.

First and Last

You saw me coming.
I didn't see you,
Didn't know people like you
Deceived people like me.

You don't feel love.
Make a good show,
Fool those who really do feel
What you really don't know.

You were supposed
To love me forever.
You made that promise in church.
You had your fingers crossed.

You were my world.
How could I fall for your lies?
My inexperience played into your hands.
The price was very high.

Drink was your mistress.
You spoke with your fists.
Sometimes there were other women, too
But through it all I still loved you.

You were my first,
You would be the last.
Such was the promise I made myself,
To protect myself from the past.

Hiding

Friday night.
Every week has one.
Every Friday night
You tie one on.
I've learned the hard way
To do what you say
Exactly the way you tell me.
You still get angry.

Monday at work
Hiding the bruises,
Making excuses,
Avoiding the questions
With polo-necked jerseys,
With long sleeves and skirts.
Ashamed of my failure,
I'm hiding your work.

Waiting

The light is still on,
The signal that she is still there,
And I can't come home.
But this is my home,
Or should be, if you really cared.
Instead I wait,
Needing an end to this mess,
Waiting for you.

The light is still on.
I'm getting cold, waiting out here.
It must be okay.
I creep to the door.
The window is open a crack.
There isn't a sound.
You're lying there flat on your back.
No sign of her there.

The light is still on.
I know you will beat me for sure,
If it's a mistake,
And she's still in here.
I've reached the point where I don't care.
I'm too tired to fight.
But I'll bear it, if that's what it takes
To sleep in my bed.

I use my key,
Slip out of my clothes, into bed,
Hoping for sleep.
You don't hear me,
Don't move at all in your sleep.
Next morning you say
You forgot that the light was still on.
What can I say?

Going in Circles

Every time you hurt me
You say you're sorry,
That it won't ever happen again.
Every time I forgive you.
I try to believe you.
I'm fooling myself
And going in circles.
Four and a half years
Of trying to get it right.
I've been playing your game
Without knowing the rules.
I've given it up now,
Tired of going in circles.

Don't tell me you love me,
You're sorry,
And you'll never see her again.
You said that before,
But you lied to me,
Abused my love and me.
I'm not that doormat you made of me.
I'm strong enough to break free.
Free from the circle
Of love and betrayal,
A one-sided marriage you didn't respect.
I hope I can forget.

The Same Sky

I had counted you my friend,
For half my life, or more,
But you were too weak
To be what you wanted to be.

You told all your friends, and your Mum,
That I was the one you wanted,
You'd bring me back with you
And we'd not be parted again.

But there were the phone calls,
The tears and the jealousy,
From six thousand miles away.
I let you choose and you ran back to her.

It was your fault it ended
Differently to what you had planned.
Her thumb was large enough to crush
Thoughts of being a friend.

I flew across half the world
To share the same sky with you.
I kept my word, made the move.
You broke your promises, in the end.

You did me a favour, you know?
We would have been happy, but bored.
At least, I would have been.
You didn't have a window into my world.

A few years later, at lunch,
You said you'd been a fool,
You should never have let me go.
It's too late now, friend.

Drinking Song

Last orders!
Go fetch me a pint,
There's a good lass.
A bitter and a Guinness?
Oh yes, I must have my supper.
I bring the brimming glasses.
It feels like home here.
"Your second home." Mum jokes.
She's not really joking.
She's bitter, like your pint.

The fire crackles and flies up the stone chimney.
The domino game finished an hour ago.
Familiar faces, some swollen and reddened
Not only with drink,
With the hardship of their country lives.
Weathered faces.
Yours has weathered too, like soft leather.

Time, gentlemen, please!
"What, already?"You joke with the landlord,
Downing the last of the brew.
We slip and slide home on the frosty path.
At least the drink makes bearable
The private house that isn't my home.
It helps wrap me up against
The frost inside that bears no welcome.

Jim

Nine years old, and it's raining on my holiday.
You sit down opposite and set up the chess board.
"I'll teach you to play", you say.
I didn't know then, though I do now,
Why you tried so hard to make it up to me.
Not the holiday,
Life.

You did your best to fill the gaps.
A box brownie camera for snaps.
A game of chess to pass the time.
When the rain let up,
Or sometimes when it didn't,
We'd wander round the ancient stones
Of Long Meg and Castlerigg.

When the light faded, we'd share the Goons,
Or listen to some quiz show on the radio.
I wish I'd known then the reason why.
I only knew you were my favourite uncle.

That was years ago,
And it still brings a smile
Each time I play a game of chess,
Or hear some fragment from an early radio show.

Opera

To some you were their father,
Though not related.
Your benevolence,
Your fatherly advice,
Your non-judgemental empathy,
Made your 'family' grow constantly.

I often wished you had been more selfish
And saved your care for us.
We bear your name.
I did begrudge those other ties
Upon your time.

But now I'm glad to remember
That you were there, not just for us,
But for the needy and distressed
Who had no other help.

You played the hero quietly, in disguise.
When the world was chaos,
You were the rock,
Steadying us.

Missing In Action

I wasted years on you
Waiting and hoping,
Believing and trusting,
Long after I should have given up on you.
I still don't know what happened.
You lost your way.
I lost you.

I spent years in the prison
Of wondering why,
While I considered myself
Part of a missing whole,
Part of a puzzle I could not solve.

I should have cut the thread sooner,
Learned to start over,
Taken myself aside
And tried to accept it.
Only, I didn't know what "It" was.

You had gone missing before,
No contact at all for months.
It was part of the job.
No communication.
How long was long enough?

It has to be enough, now.
I was thirty-five then,
Full of hope and expectation.
Fifteen years can do that,
Help me accept
You are not missing in action,
You're lost.

Dunblane

Standing in the living room,
Talking to a friend I've come to visit,
No time yet to take off my coat,
Morning television burbling softly
As a background to our conversation -
Suddenly the red bars
Flash across the lower screen,
Catching my eye.
I turn to the breaking news.
The horror changes everything.

I want to run.
The school is only two blocks away.
It's not happening there,
But I want to hold my child, safe,
Take her home with me,
And never let her go again.

I take deep breaths,
Calming the panic.
She isn't in any danger.
But I make a vow to myself
I won't spend my life regretting
That I didn't let her know
How much I love her.

Afternoon comes at last.
I try to walk normally,
But my feet are impatient.
She runs across the playground
Into my waiting arms.
"I love you."
She smiles back.
"I know."

Leaving

I kiss your cool forehead,
For the last time.
I watch you sleep.
This time there's no waking.
Goodbye is too hard a word.
We've never been able to say it
To each other.

I say, "Sleep well, Dad."
Walking away when everything in me
Screams 'STAY!'
If only I could.
If I were wanted,
And I knew you knew the difference,
I would.
Despite everything.
But you won't know I'm gone.
And they don't want me here.

Grandad

"It doesn't look like him."
You hold my hand tightly,
And keep a short distance,
A little afraid of the strangeness.
Oh yes, it looks like him.

It looks like him,
As I knew him,
Before you were here.
Twenty or so years ago,
Before the lines of care
Grew deep and plentiful.

His favourite shirt,
Bearing tiny holes from his cigarette ash,
Looks dark against the white satin
Lining his coffin.

I am glad to be here with you
And not with them
To say this last goodnight.
Not goodbye.

Letters

Every time I tell myself
It won't bother me anymore,
I'm over that,
I get another one.
A "Why can't you do better?" letter.
"Your sister has done blah, blah, blah..."
You know what?
We're not identical twins
Thank God.

You always talk to me
As to a child of three.
You write the same way.
I'm still a child
Who's forgotten to say "Thank you"
Or to keep in touch.
I should be doing such and such.
Your sister did, your brothers, too.
Well guess what?
I haven't
And I'm not.

You want to run my life.
I run , instead.
I run.
You ruin.
Sounds like the latin
We had to recite in school.
Amo, amas, amat.
That is the lie.
I am not loved.

Smashed

The things you need to say,
You can't begin to think,
Without a drink.
Find your way to a bottle.
Lost and losing,
We're all lost now.
You stumble through my door,
Unsteady and needy,
But it's not me you need.
You mumble through words
That only surface
When drowning in drink.
It won't bring him back
To be flat on your back
On the floor here.
At least with the drink you will sleep.

In the morning we don't talk
About the drink,
Or the loss,Or the need.
We just pretend
It won't happen again.
A coffee, a smile,
"Take care of yourself."
We both know you won't.
You don't need me to point that out.
It's too hard for you,
When everyone you thought cared
Has abandoned you,
And I'm all that's left,
Losing and lost
Like you.

Tired

I get tired.
Not just of the daily struggle against a failing body.
Not just of the lack of understanding,
Appreciation, or compassion.
I get tired of being alone.

Alone, in the sense
That I'm adrift emotionally,
since you died.
No-one else around me
Understands me like you did.

I have a family of my own now,
Who love me very much,
As I love them.
You didn't get to see the great-grandchildren,
But I know you would have enjoyed them.

How tired I am
With trying to be everything for them
That you would have been,
Had you been here still.
Your shoes are too big to fill.

Requiem

I cannot do it yet,
But one day, I will.
One day,I promise.
I can't get enough breath
To sing it for you.
Loss chokes my voice
Before the notes are formed.
One day when I can hear those melodies
Without desperation,
Without feeling my heart crushed in my chest,
I'll sing it for you.
It will be my requiem,
For all I have lost.
Not just a father,
A friend.