The Missing

I lost my dad a hundred times before
I found him again
in the ever-presence of little birds
that followed me in the spring
of lockdown 2020.

I lost my dad in stages to
the vicissitudes of blue moods
and withdrawal from a world
as meaningless as space
when viewed from the window of
a grey little one bedroom flat.

I lost my dad to inconvenience
to jealousy, relationships
to disappointments, grudges, silences
and stubbornness
and disinterest

And then finally to brain disease
to self, body, mind detaching
to neural networks dissolving
to a frontal lobe shrinking
to the space that started filling up
all that once was matter.

I lost my dad a hundred times before
I found him again
like lay-lines spread out all around me
at the corners of my vision
like a twinkle of something-nothing
elusive but
there.