The door was open and the house was dark

This ‘dream’ poem is dedicated to the memory of David Hammond, much admired Northern Irish writer, singer, teacher, songwriter, historian, musician, film-maker and broadcaster who died in August 2008. As with all dreams the conscious and sub-conscious intrude in random measure to complicate the dream’s main ‘message’. Pitch-black night: the stuff of nightmare. A visitor stood before the door of a familiar house (he reveals he is not there for the first time). He was faced with an eerie paradox: the doorwas open yet there was no sign of life. The caller sought some reassurance from hearing his own voice: Wherefore I called his name.  The scene was heavy with prescience: I knew the answer this time. His call received no human response. […]