Breathing pines
Of all the travelling I've done, the North's most in my heart:
I breathe the smells of ancient pines.  They fill my every part.
That place of love, within; without; is so much more than feeling.
It sees itself in everything.  It knows no floor or ceiling.

Everything dissolves and all that's left is you and me.
I don't know who you are because I cannot really see.
So I look beyond my vision and my open heart is sad:
I see you now, you gentle hearted man.  How are you, Dad?

You died when I was 18 and it plunged me into grief,
And through the wilderness of loss beyond the underneath.
And through the wilderness I came, beyond the pain of death,
Sung back into life by Scottish pines and whispered breath –

It was always you amongst the pines.  I understand that now.
I understand you chose to stay although I don' t know how.
I wish you'd met my children, though I know you're with us all,
Expanded into every tree and every waterfall.


Poetic portrait from anonymous to her father
1st February 2015 ©Simon Welsh Poetry

This poetic portrait was written for a visitor to my Fig2  solo exhibition at the ICA in January 2015.

What is a Poetic Portrait?


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