In my mind I saw his face and heard his voice.
Saw the float plane land in the harbour
Pull up to the wharf, deliver his remains.
Knelt and said a prayer in his mother’s living room
Just like me, he was only nine.
As I walked among the stones.

My younger sisters and I played house
When we were small, before we started school
She was our child, so we pretended
She called us mom and dad as we played,
I wonder what was the name we gave her.
As I walked among the stones.

He was my older brother always doing stupid things
Destroyed his brother’s bicycle one time
Nearly killed himself in the process.
He never changed much as he grew up
I ask myself “Why was he that way?”
As I walked among the stones.

Knew him all my life, he was a good friend
Oh lord, how he could make us laugh
And how he came to make us all cry
Still can’t make sense of it, guess I never will
These thoughts come back to me
As I walked among the stones.

The butter knife moves along beneath the lines
As I kneel beside her in the chair
She taught me how to read and write, my numbers too
Likewise my prayers, how to be good
To love God and all the people around me,
As I walked among the stones.

I hear the hammer ring as it strikes the anvil
When he made my barrel-stave slide
The wood shavings on the floor, covered
In tobacco juice as he worked away
It was made just for me, I remember
As I walked among the stones.

There’s a horse and cart fitted with a hay frame
An old man leaning on a scythe
Hay to make and animals to care for
Listen to those swearing fits, God they were fun
I recall with fondness the time with him
As I walked among the stones.

There’s a big house on the hill
An old lady and a little boy
They gather sticks from the beach
Boughs from the grove, berries from the hills
There’s codfish frying in the pan on the stove
As I walked among the stones.

She was the love of my life
Three times I asked her to be my wife
Only one promise made, to love forever
The last words we spoke to each other
I love you, I love you too.
As I stopped walking among the stones.

Cyril Griffin
New Perlican, NL