After the Mahler

After the Symphony of a Thousand
I am woken by the solitary
figure of my father walking

along a lonely road, just as
he was before he died.
I shout to stop the car,

leap out and embrace him
feeling the stubble and warmth
of his presence. Where we were

going, where the road
was winding to in my dream
I do not know. But years ago

we reeled out of a Prom,
where I had been standing
in the arena and he was sitting

somewhere up in the gods,
to meet at the bus-stop and rejoice
in what we had heard:

Veni Creator Spiritus…
Blicket Auf… as Faust
is raised to the empyrean.

John Greening