Before You Go and For Dad

Before You Go

And so we sit

in the swing chair

gently rocking

staying longer

the final rays of sun

fading

the light softly

dimming

and we don’t

say the things we could say

about the future.

For Dad

You’re smaller now

than when we were little

when you lifted us up

effortlessly,

hoisting us to your shoulders

And you ran, rode, built things, knew things, did things.

Now we lift you

inexpertly

gently, carefully, feeling your fragile bones

You led us on extraordinary adventures

scaling mountains,

hiking through forests, swimming in hidden water holes,

pitching flapping tents in oleander strewn sandhills.

Now we push you

gently, carefully

as you navigate this new expedition

its final steepest ascent

alone.

Tania Leiman is Dean of Law at Flinders University. She writes poetry to distil experiences, to slow, to breathe and to connect with the natural world.

Readers’ original and unpublished poems of up to 40 lines can be emailed, with postal address, to [email protected]. Submissions should be in the body of the email, not as attachments. A poetry book will be awarded to each accepted contributor.