Here in the dark, we three
My Father, myself and the baby
We are witnessing the fields after the storm from our living room window
All is clean, blank and still
With the lights gone out
Everything is simple and slow
Single minded in our endeavours
He is resurrecting an old torch
I am finding candles
He gets turf
We eat
I unfold and throw to unfurl a blanket for the baby’s bed
The realisation is dawning
there is nothing now in this moment to disturb
With the blanket lain flat it gently smoothes out the thoughts from the day
My Father reads from the newspaper by the light of a candle on the mantel
His lips move slowly as his finger travels steadily across the page
This house was where my Father went to school
It was built in 1914
I hear the echo of the voice of the school master ring out words of dismissal
My Father brings more turf for the fire
He talks of bringing turf to school and how each child came with a sod of turf under their arm
In a communal effort to keep themselves warm while together at school
The lights return for a tantalising moment
I remember all the life that comes with the light
We each look up
But it suddenly disappears again, and we wonder where it went
That simple decisiveness of the dark reigns once more
I resent it but feel relieved all at the same time
I can now see the beauty in no choices and in decisions made
I realise there is nothing to do and nothing to say
by ECC