1014

Relics

On the windowsill

My grandfather's inkwell -

A thank-you for services rendered in the war -

Watches me as I go down the stairs.

Pedantically, I straighten it each time.

As if it mattered.

And it does.

This is the only link

Between his silent self and me.

No difference then to Cutherbert's wooden altar;

Each reminding me there is no other.

Brian Hick September 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 14.10.23

 To Martin

'Martin', she said and I had always thought

Of you as William, presumably because

That was my granddad's name, and it was

The first that came to mind, as if it ought

To have ancestral links even though

Neither of us have.  In the genealogical groups

That Dad had found, back to our Yorkshire roots

Before the Armada, not a single Tony

Or a Brian, and then, out of the blue

Your name appeared, unlinked to any other

In our past, but suddenly I've a brother

- Long thought lost - the one I never knew.

          How strange that after sixty years, you are more

          Real to me today than ever before.

Brian Hick 2009

©copyright Sally Hick 8.7.22

Archer Hick

I've just found out he fought at Agincourt.

His name, barely deciphered on a list,

Shows that a Hick was with the King in France,

Under Duke Humphrey; but that he ixists

Is all we're like to know. His other names

Are smudged, so where he lived or what he did

Before he joined the archers into France

Must remain for us, forever hid.

So why do I feel drawn towards this man

Who might have been an ancestor of mine

When so many others of our name

Have come and gone unnoticed in the span

Of years between? Could it be a sign

That somewhere in the future lies my fame?

Brian Hick 2009

© copyright 2021 S Hick