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Remembering Dad at Christmas time

 

Remembering Dad at Christmas time

 

“How ya goin Doora?”

That was dad’s love name for me

Poet father of a poet

The family trade

But that’s just the surface

He was a stronger force

An incredible singer

Of rebel ballads

My education in the arts

Was, dad advised,

To “become the song”

That's the job of an artist

A lesson from earlier generations

Before recorded music

& its self-consciousness

Ascend the mountaintop with your notes

From singing at the low point of the valley

Stand mid-air

As Okri says the job is to astonish the gods

It was a privilege to have someone to talk about letters

As Intensely & beautifully

Even as his powers waned in Aged Care

He let me fly

We'd just started our climb back together

With my psychosis

A liberating event

Coz finally, after bearing life's early weight,

To fuck up ridiculously

To make such a mess

Like he had done

He & mum brought me home

Rescued me from the asylum

& commenced my recovery

Never stopped believing in me

Never made me feel silly

Just loved

Thank you mum & dad

I hear you tonight in the old Christmas carols

& see you in the tears that fall

Just how much I love you both

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2023.

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