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.