My Santiago

And when you spoke,

It was to be listened to,

But I am unsure if I quite knew that then;

I know it now though,

As always,

We get there,

too long but never too late.

Mum,

I remember that early morning

- In that rural outskirt, our Police Training School - that dad was taken,

And you,

you sitting on the edge of my bed,

Waking me with the words,

‘They have come to take daddy away”;

Sobbing,

Gripped with the fear

of what comes next.

I had no concept of that fear then,

I do now.

Mum,

I remember your well-concealed disappointment,

When I told you I had turned down a job,

An offer that would bring us back to you;

But you were wise beyond my comprehension

and simply agreed with me.

And when I made a surprise visit to the Pines ,