Quite Unprepared For This

Seldom had the spectre of an empty chair
echoed cruel and clear as did upon that
sombre morning. Now rarely does a day
begin where eyes are wary and resist the
hollow ache of emptiness, too chary lest
they rest again upon your empty chair.

‘Tis too sad a meeting; tears spring from
wounded depths before the mind insists –
composed belief that weans the eyes from
graven grief. The Wake, they said, put you
to proper rest but left your chair and we
who stayed quite unprepared for this.
© 26 December 2007, I. D. Carswell