I See You Dancing, Father

I See You Dancing, Father

No sooner downstairs after the night’s rest
And in the door
Than you started to dance a step
In the middle of the kitchen floor.

And as you danced
You whistled.
You made your own music
Always in tune with yourself.

Well, nearly always, anyway.
You’re buried now
In Lislaughtin Abbey
And whenever I think of you

I go back beyond the old man
Mind and body broken
To find the unbroken man.
It is the moment before the dance begins,

Your lips are enjoying themselves
Whistling an air.
Whatever happens or cannot happen
In the time I have to spare
I see you dancing, father.

from Familiar Strangers: New and Selected Poems 1956-2004 (Bloodaxe, 2004), copyright © Brendan Kennelly 2004, used by permission of the author and Bloodaxe Books Ltd

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