Taking care

"It's time for me to go,

little horsey," she whispered

as he stood beside her bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked,

with the innocence of six.

He'd come to know what being sick

was like. Nine months she'd gradually

run down, her illness feasting on her body

like a fool, a glutton at her bones,

gnawing at muscle, loosening skin

making her too weak to play -

the occasional bedtime story

was all that she could do.

"Daddy will still be here

and Grandma too," she said.

Then through breaking tears he asked,

"But who will take care of you?"

IMPERIAL WARDROBE

Let me see –

What shall I wear today?

Which suit will suit my purpose

when meeting the director general?

Not this grey one

a decade out of date

that no longer fits.

But in its pockets I find

Notes of my anxieties and ideas

that I nurtured and discussed back then,

which framework, which stakeholder

will lead to more efficient operation,

how to cut the budget,

eliminate waste and maintain

industrial peace in our time.

The notes are there:

unlike the suit

they’ll feature fresh

In today’s discussion,

It’s not the suits per se

rather the treasured madnesses

of what’s written in their pockets

that leads me to retain them.

THE ESCALATING EXHAUSTION OF UNCERTAINTY

Refugees at Munich central railway station – Thanksgiving Day 2015  (Ken MacWilliams)

We have come this far

thanks to the grace of god

and to the provision of our dear father

and our two older sons

whom we hope to meet

in the next city –

but can’t be sure. 

If we go up the escalator

to the next floor

to catch a train

where will we go? 

Many are poorer.

For them, is there anyone?

They can’t be sure.

Our neighbourhood was bombed

and many friends killed.

Our sisters died

None is safe.

Why does humanity tear its soul –

for power, glory, peace?

What is it for?

We can’t be sure.