Ask to know your people better
When my father goes to Edinburgh,
the hilly streets and crowds of tourists
make him grouchy. This is his mother’s country.
She is not there, he cannot touch the things
she touched but he sees and hears what made
the city his mother’s home;
cleaving together people and places
history becomes a road his grandchildren
look down, seeing the houses of ancestors,
small rooms containing real lives, smoke
from hearths rising above chimneys.
David Belcher is aged over 50, he lives on the north coast of Wales, and his most recent work has appeared in The Ekphrasic Review, Ink Sweat and Tears and Right Hand Pointing. David reads and writes poetry for enjoyment, and because it keeps him sane.