THIS YEAR’S LILIAN by David Erdos - Poem 25 from THE PEOPLES PRISON

Poem 25 from THE PEOPLES PRISON 

THIS YEAR’S LILIAN

 

 

Lockdown is grief in each and all senses   

So whatever Tier you’re in, Mum is higher

Than the towers of isolation I see. Of course,

 

Your old home remains low, but I’m straining

To change its perspective as I look left at this

Warped year and right towards the end of the drive’s

 

Cedar tree. Centuries old it will grow, or so I like

To think beyond England. As with time, it’s a totem

Of a different age, scene of place, in which you reside,

 

As you once did here, so, I follow, marking

The same paths within it while catching the changing

State of my face. Today you would be 82, and so

 

I raise these words to your birthday. I’ll be aging

Soon in your shadow, a shuffling little man, hourly

And one who is raking over the past as opposed

 

To properly tending the garden, of which you were

So proud; its new wildness while offending you

Comforts me. And I do apologise, Mum, but it reflects

 

The world that I’m shaping. It also acts as a mirror

For what I seem to have done to your house.

Which is to make it mine, finally; certainly the reverse

 

Of yours, more ramshackle, but one that’s translated

From your language and life to my mouth, which speaks

To you still as I turn to look at the photo in which

 

Your eyes see me no matter where I am in the room.

My friend Anthony took that shot and I will remember

That episode always; you enjoyed the little film

 

We were making and that one afternoon was the life

We would have continued to have if your full retirement

Had been granted, after over fifty years of work

 

And part struggle, after the successes you’d made,

After strife, and the disappointments you’d had,

From that first Sailor sourced separation;

 

After yours and Dad’s rebound marriage,

And the day he drove away and then died;

And after my childish faults; and yet the standards

You set, I continue. We never looked like each other,

 

But my spirit is yours. That’s defined. Along with

The temper, of course and frequent lack of patience

With others, but also the ability to engender the level

 

Of respect that bids doors to open and admit me

In time, to professional ports of achievement.

This is the cask made by mothers from which a virgin

 

Wine can mature. Now there’s no choice, as middle age

Fast embraces, but I do not reject its advances, as in

The grace to come, there’s allure. And of course,

 

It pushes me next to you. And naturally next to Tommy,

Frozen in time and his fifties, still the man he was,

My dear Dad. Who I bring to your birthday too, in the hope

 

That somewhere out there you’re both talking,

And while the mistakes I make may bring judgement

That nine times out of ten might be bad, they are

 

Simply the slips the lost make when calling out

For fresh guidance. So I am trying to predict yours,

Without contact, within this prisoner’s year and soul cage.

 

What I wouldn’t give to Zoom you, or rather whoosh

Across cosmos, to see your face and eyes shining

As consciousness breeds a starred age. I miss your small body,

 

Your smile, rare as it was with me, love and judgement.

I miss your reprimand and your aura. I miss your being here

And your voice. And so I continue to write to and of you

 

Each birthday. As the words arrive there’s a notion

That you will too. That’s grief’s point. 

 

 

 

 

 

David Erdos, December 28th 2020

 

 

 

For more poems from David Erdos visit The Corona Diaries collection 

David Erdos is an actor, writer, director with over 300 professional credits. He is a published poet, playwright, essayist and illustrator. He has lectured on all disciplines in theatre and film for leading performing arts colleges, schools and universities around the world. His books include EASY VERSES FOR DIFFICULT TIMES, THE SCAR ON THE CLOUD, OIL ON SILVER, NEWS FROM MARS, CHANGING PLACES WITH LIGHT (penniless press) and BYZANTIUM with the photographer Max Reeves. He is a contributing editor for The International Times and maker of documentaries all over the world. David’s work has been acclaimed by many leading figures including Harold Pinter, Heathcote Williams, Alan Moore, Andrew Kotting, Chris Petit and Iain Sinclair in whose recent book THE LAST LONDON, David features. He can be reached at David.erdos@sky.com.

David Erdos

©    David Erdos has asserted his moral rights as author of his work and has full copyright.