John Hulse - 7/11/50 - 24/7/11 Poem by John Mackinnon

John Hulse - 18/9/20
7/11/50 - 24/7/11

Almost every night,
Or second night perhaps,
I walk out of our sliding doors
Onto the back deck
Where your ashes are.
I stare out to the stars,
Unzip my fly and ask,
How would you check my thinking
Now old friend,
If you had not been killed?
And why, as I pee on the plants
Part grown within your pot,
Do I still depend
Upon your skills
Of understanding,
On your how and what opinion
Of what my life will be
From this day on.
Its a chat that old mates have
About the ones they love the most.
And how if we possibly could,
Prevent their life's mistakes.
Your ghost now John,
Remains with me,
And carries on to guide
My questioning.
You will become a tree
I'm sure, I hope,
If all the care and love
I've spent on you
Should be rewarded.
But for now, to keep you company
I've planted apple pips within your earth
And for your mirth
I greet you every time
As my old friend
‘Johnny Appleseed'.
My own life, since your murder
Stays with me
To puzzle through
The whys and wherefores
Of the time still left,
And what for me to do
Without you.

JHM - 18/9/20