I have looked at it from every angle

yet do not recognise the geometry.

I can see you slip slowly into memory

though sharp and in focus.

It’s familiar, distinct,

recognised from our shared lives as brothers.

Remembered; snapshots in a biscuit tin,

Crawfords Scottish Shortbread eaten,

cleaned and saved from Christmas past.

And there you are, playing the clown to all but my Da.

There always was a frisson to you and Eddie,

an eddy that could stir a hornet’s nest.

Playing guitar on the bridge at Waterfoot

before the tent was up.

You, strolling to the ferry at Lough Derg.

Along this trajectory to a spot where I say farewell.

A line, a web, a net that will fail to reach.

For that I will go inside to that infinite connection

to the heart where Love dwells.



14 thoughts on “Murf

  1. Such beautiful words gerry Murphy. . Thank you for sharing then with us. Thinking of you and sending much love. X

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