I cannot see my mother’s face;
no longer know my father’s name.
It’s the forgetting of the world
keeps me sane.

A stranger’s laugh, a neighbour’s death;
my wife’s despair, my daughter’s grief.
It’s the forgetting of the world
gives me breath.

The hungry, old, surrounding sea,
heaves at a field’s worn edge in me.
It’s the forgetting of the world
sets us free.