At ninety three a life is simplified.
Soon after dawn awake, a shower, a slow
walk up the drive – the paper fetched, a shave,
porridge, a cup of tea. He’s not alone –
a partnership of over sixty years,
in golden light she sits with him, transfigured.
Heidegger philosophised a clearing –
an open space within a forest – rigour
marked his thinking, no necessity
for proof, instead a discipline – from darkness
light, in hiddenness a radiance.
My fathers sees a cloudy sky – an ark
of dark divinity – all that is human
replicated in all that is inhuman.