For Morgan

When a two-year-old is snatched from you, the effect is devastating...

Your way, at last, has gone from me

I see as all the blind can see,

I touch as only beggars touch,

And hear and feel but half as much.

 

I walk the world in my disguise

To hide the rivers at my eyes

And like a child, in fear I call...

Remember me, or not at all.

 

For all the planets long conspired

To help me to my funeral pyre,

To tear my children from their mould

And tell them what they’d not be told.

 

The night that will encompass all

Has rushed to join me in my fall,

To brave the pain that in me cries

This love, that can’t be cauterised!

 

David Lewis Paget