Revelation in Troyes

Grey Gum

3. Revelation in Troyes

Saying goodbye at the train on his last visit to Brisbane

I remember my father fixing me with steely eyes, as if he were

absorbing all detail, confirming each aspect,

committing my every movement to his memory.

With that stare one reserves for precious objects like parent

or partner briefly seen before for ever being sealed away.

Now at this same age I say goodbye

to French friends I have known for half a lifetime,

seen two generations pass, one colleague dying.

We abandon the gentility of kissing cheeks

and take to hugs, rocking back and forth,

some kisses, too, for it is certain, this is the last time

in this life that we will meet. Travelling alone

across half the world is now for me too much a burden.

And so I stand under an umbrella beside

the covered market, deserted now, while they adjust their GPS,

all wave, the car moves off, and I stand watching

flaming taillights being slowly extinguished by the rain.

Then suddenly, the realization that I wear my father’s steely stare,

and I’m aware I am no longer of the exuberant age

when all seems possible, but now have reached

the age my options fast diminish, and darkness closes in.

(Antipodes)