Require the Mountain
It’s surreal to see my father
behaving like an elderly man.
Even now he doesn’t look the part.
The grey is only just settling
into his proudly groomed-back hair.
But he feels closer to his end
than his strong jaw conveys.
He anticipates it eagerly, prefers it
over his rusting facade of life.
He bought a pistol some years ago,
for protection he said, but I think
he had only one target in mind.
I think a part of him thrills
at the turn his body has taken.
Finally a view to the end,
a release that won’t require
the mountain of courage needed
to draw back a small crescent of steel.
