Posted by: jkirkby8712 | September 18, 2011

Sunday, 18th September, 2011 – John Keith Kirk [1921-1969]

Today is the anniversary of my Dad’s birth, 90 years ago, what a pity he was not given the opportunity to see 2011.  Some years after my father died, I dreamt that I met him in a city street\, and having my first son with me at the time, I was able to introduce Dad to the only grandchild he would ever meet. Perhaps, somehow, there was a message attached to that dream. I found a poem the other day, which reminded me of that dream – on a slightly different tact, but worthy of inclusion here I felt.  Called ‘Meeting with My Father in the Orchard, written by Homero Haridjis [and translated by George McWhirtier]

Meeting with My Father in the Orchard

 

 
 

Past noon. Past the cinema

with the tall sorrowful walls

on the point of coming down, I enter the orchard.

Show over, all of them have gone:

day laborers, dogs and doors.

My father is standing in front of a fig tree.

My mother has died. The children, grown old.

He’s alone, small threads of air

weave in and out of his tattered clothes.

For fear of getting too close and startling him

with my living presence, I want to go straight by,

the strange one now with white hair whom he asks,

“Who’s that there?”

“Father, it’s me, your son.”

“Does your mother know you’re back. Will you stay and eat?”

“Father, for years now your wife has lain at rest

by your side in the town graveyard.”

Then, as if he has divined everything,

he calls me by my childhood name

and gives me a fig.

So we met up, the living and the dead.

Then, each went on his way.

 
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