|
| |
home at last
Ashore at last
The night in the hallway paled into a yellowish screen
showing a black movie, ca 1963
A time machine of memories sent him back to the years
to meet people long since gone.
A family at the dinner table of people he knew too well
the shadow of his 125-year-old father was not there
nectar drinking Colibri exotic as Christmas present never received, the one in the toy shop, a red firetruck with wooden wheels
And he, the son of the oldest man in the world, had gone to sea, and when he returned, nothing was as remembered, differently by the people around the table
an ocean of missed years, a distance that was unbridgeable whenever he came home, a stranger silent
augmenting the gap filled with politeness.
They had known and seen him grow to adulthood, but his character remained a mystery, sitting in the living. room
somehow, they were related to him
they knew he would leave soon.
A nurse gently touched his shoulder,
you are awake?
Yes, my dear, I'm home from the sea.
Copyright ©
Jan Hansen
|
|