for
McDonald Dixon at 70
“As
we grow old
Impossibles
shape before our eyes” (Dixon)
I must imagine you now
Walking away
Towards the waterfront
And the vendors’ arcade
Turning, out of my sight, down Jeremie Street.
Come back, like a rewinding video
Pedalling backwards
Past our grey names
Past yesterday’s yesterday;
Come with your sketches
Come with your tattered manuscripts
Come find some lost almond shade
Up Vigie beach,
And dear friend,
Be stentorian, be as ever, sure,
Right or wrong,
Be Dixon.
And, let me learn from you
Such faithful industry
Beyond talent, beyond award
Beyond tomorrow’s tomorrow,
Such faith that would hold my faith
Steady, steady,
Beyond our endings’ never-ending line.
