Magpie
It’s only now,
as I dissassemble your magpie nest
Of all things old, shiny and unusual;
Your semi complete collections:
Glasses, fans, gloves, collar studs
stoneware, glassware
an aladdins cave of discarded objects
Found by you and kept safe
That I start to know you.
You were distant for a long time
too much tragedy, too many battles too young,
Too late you demanded my friendship,
Wheedled and sulked like a child,
Your nest was too prickly for me to sit comfortably in.
And now I sense you as a young girl
Bossy, driven, organising
Full of idea and excitement, adventure
Ronnie Scotts, Pantomimes, Rome
Days on the beach, dancing…
And the letters pour in,
memories, stories, little glimpses of you
happier days, than these later years.
My father said, when I was a teenager
That I had all the worst bits of the two of you,
He said it with a smile but it troubled me.
It is still in my head as I bag and box.
Your sister is keen to de-clutter
But talks as if you were some kind of saint, a martyr
She rifles through your bits and pieces with purpose,
Egging my father on to clear the decks.
Cautiously I remove things from the dustbin
thinking that after all the effort of keeping them so long,
I should at least find these treasures new homes to go to.
A friend suggested a summer season of car boots,
I tried one but lay awake all night
Agonising over whether you would have approved
Of my wholesale disposal of your hoard.
We are all of us, exhausted from our careful
De-construction of your kingdom,
Such passion and time poured into the creation of it.
You did good things, you were loved and you are missed
But I am relieved, to rediscover the space and the light,
To banish the pungent odour of mothballs and dust.
I am relieved.
J. Brain June 2010
