This poem is in memory of a wonderful man and Father, Richard Charles Maskell.
I think I see you over there,
Sat right there! In my neighbours
Chair!
Rubbing on your weathered neck &
Tightly knotted brow.
I know that look, I’ve smoothed
Those lines, I’ve held those hands a
Thousand times.
You’re lost to me, I know it’s true,
But how can it be so?
When I see you almost everywhere,
In places I don’t know.
Standing at the platform, three
Tracks across from me.
I recognise that briefcase, that
Stance and bend of knee.
I stare at you intensely, how can it
Really be?
You my precious Father, the one
Now lost to me?
I scoured the very corners, dusting
Piece by piece,
Searching for that voice I’ve known,
I’ve strained to hear your feet.
You’re lost to me, I know it’s true,
But how can it be so?
When I see you almost everywhere,
In faces I don’t know.
I’ll treasure it, your gift for now,
As who knows it may stop!
Welcoming confusion and mini
Waves of shock.
Your missed beyond the words I
Write,
And found in fluttered thoughts at
Night.
Whichever form you may appear,
I’ll listen so I know your near!
You’re lost to me, I know it’s true,
But how can it be so?
When I see you almost everywhere,
And you’ll stay with me I know!
– Ana-Maria Wilson
This is so, so very beautiful. Especially the line ‘I’ll treasure it, your gift for now,
As who knows it may stop!’ appeals to me a lot. My Dad passed away almost 3 years ago and those moments where I suddenly see him in the streets become rarer. I wish you all the best, Ana-Maria.
PS. It still is hard for me to say these words, ‘my dad died’ or ‘passed away’. There is an expression in Italian, è venuto a mancare, which I prefer because it reflects the way I feel about it so deeply. Your name sounds Spanish, so you may understand Italian a little bit.
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