Poem for my Father

Come away Simon,
away to the woods with us.
Leave your shoes by the stairs and
follow our feet to the bridge.
The dog is scared of the burn
so won’t bite your fingers when you cross.
We can sleep in the treehouse and
wait for the witch who comes to pick wild garlic.
Together we can be brave and
pull the green bits from her teeth.
Wandering the glen with
nothing in our pockets, we can search
for the place where fairies still live.
No one will find us there,
not even the old grey bell they ring at tea time.

You’re afraid of the spinning wheel that
lives behind your sister’s corridor.
It grows arms at night and steals toys
from underneath your bed.
We can hear when you feel forgotten –
small in the attic, watching the hills outside
disappear into darkness.
Your dad is mean and
doesn’t hear the beautiful things you play,
only haunted whisperings of a house
that is no longer his.
Stay with us instead and
we will teach you to hide between grouse feathers
and follow the paths only sheep can read.
You can go back with the rain, or
on the last warm day of summer, or when your trousers
become too short for your legs.

Hattie Graham is a Scottish writer and spoken word performer currently living in Berlin. She has a degree in English Literature from the University of Leeds and is currently working towards an MA in American Literature. Her work regularly explores feminine rage, childhood and the natural world.