Tuesday Night at Emile's: a connection

hello mama

 

his approach has been along the gravel path
beneath trees and open sky
by turns

 

he has meandered
to take in the old headstones
contrast them with newer trends
a dithering indirect approach

 

but at last he is here

 

the shirt is pink and creased
but at least clean
he has found his jacket
attempted a tie
although crooked

 

his face is more shaven than not

 

the posy of flowers
a vibrant array of bright colour
just as he remembers her to have been
when he was still small

 

hello mama

 

he is uncomfortable
not knowing if he should stand or sit
or even perhaps kneel

 

settles for a stoop
that turns into a sit
after he has found a small weed to pull

 

he is unaware in his awkwardness
of a cloaked figure
slowing for a moment
to watch him
before continuing on the path
to some personal destination
among the untroubled at their rest

 

it’s been a long time mama
and I’ve been lost
so so lost

 

his face wrinkles into creases
and tears start to fall
but now he is untroubled by them
knows he will shed a burden
believes this with all the faith
of one who has seen his first light
and knows that at last
there is a direction

 

as he speaks and weeps
his hand wanders
backwards and forwards
across the granite rubble atop the grave
letting the sound of stones
gently colliding against each other
punctuate his phrases
his admissions of weakness
and fall

 

tells of his bewilderment
at the cause
a fleeting episode that caught him so unawares
obsessed and almost drove him
to an oblivion

 

as the narrative progresses
the tears slow and stop
breathing comes easier
his hands are still shaking
but he knows he has passed some crucial point
hardly realises how much time has gone by
until a cool breeze
ruffles the back of his neck
to announce that it is already evening

 

goodbye mama

 

he pats the headstone
uncertainly
almost expecting a return warmth
finding only cold granite

 

still
it is enough
to form a connection

 

~