John Segon-Fisher, RPA

Who was my father?
I knew him as Lionel, Albert and
Tiny
I helped him build a shed
A place of his own
A refuge, perhaps shelter?
I knew he went to war
He flew
His friends died
He also …

Out of the darkness
Blackened like a bush-fired tree
I live this life
But I do not feel free.

I climb upon your faults
Footfall following footfall.
Your faults,
Those shining beauties
So bright, when compared
To extinct love:
Words meaning nothing.

But fault? Forever’s being,
…