A poem about missing the people who have shared the different phases of my life.

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My Witnesses

Might think I had something to hide,

Some secret abandonment plan,

I’ve wondered off, so far away, put so much distance between.

But sometimes when it’s late here, and I lie alone in the dark,

I think of you taking a sunset walk

Or of you, gathering around candles and songs…

It’s not that I must be there, but I think of you, think of you, think.

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It’s not that I don’t have a task here,

or plans, and meetings and walks,

It’s not that I shouldn’t be here, in a place with plenty to teach,

Sometimes when I wake very early,

I think of you deep in your sleep,

Or of you, at a concert with friends, lights flashing…

It’s not that I can’t still my feet, but I think of you, think of you, think.

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I know that we must make our choices,

You can’t be two places at once,

It’s not that there’s one place I’m missing, or one single person I lack,

Sometimes when I walk in the evening,

I think of you, with your lad on your lap,

Or of you, preparing your daughters,

It’s not that I ever could be all those places, but I think of you, think of you, think.

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There are things I’d like to help with,

Words that need to be said with a hug,

It’s not that I know so much better, or know anything much at all,

But sometimes when I’m walking and thinking,

There are words that feel natural to say,

Ideas I’d like your views on,

It’s not that I can’t make my mind up, but I think of you, think of you, think. 

Dhaka

January 2023