THE SHARED GROUND OF UNCERTAINTY
I remember you sleeping there
swathed against the night-time’s dark and cold
escaping pain’s brutal drudgery.
Now you’re not with me when I wake
to a silence neither threatening
nor comforting but merely present.
Some days I’m at the coffee shop
sitting there in my regular place
wanting to order something for you.
Reality shatters that urge
the empty chairs remain empty still
while I sit at a table for one.
Evenings I watch the sun setting
counting geese as they fly home to roost.
They mate for life – so the story goes.
Do they also mourn their mate’s death
after years of nesting together?
Perhaps such questions aren’t our concern.
When memory’s mechanisms
falter with old age we find ourselves
on the shared ground of uncertainty.
© Tony Ullyatt, 2022