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

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