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Poem

Inspired by the painting Night in Saint Cloud painted by Edvard Munch (1890) following the death of his father. His father, Christian Munch, was a strict and religious father and although supportive of his son they often had a strained relationship. Viewing the painting will enhance the experience of the poem. 

The poem is written from the perspective of father to son, when coming towards the end of life

This gloom, these 4 walls, contain me.
The cigarette regulates my breathing,
my mood.

Here, I don't cast a shadow.
I can view from a safe vantage point,
not affect the way life is playing out.

You hold your ever-present position
at the recesses of my mind.
I presume I'm still holding my position
at the forefront of yours.

The cause and remedy being painfully intertwined,
that a lifetime of knowledge of religion and medicine can't resolve.
My outline, part of your shaping,
forever to reside in the dark corners.

I could only ever be myself.
As I stoop now, I wish I could have bent then.
The guide that showed the way but closed the roads.
I shall give it some thought, all that I have left.

Should you think it over - view it all as a view from the window;
selective and glossed over, lit by distant lights.
Let the gloom of the room enhance the view outside,
spur you to be immersed in those distant lights.

Healed in a way I never could be.
My son, amongst it all, I loved you

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