16 DECEMBER 1995, Page 66

Without You

I miss the pictures of you in the house — The stable steamy with sweet straw And donkey's breath; the baby photos In your mother's lap and then the handsome Curly-headed lad with bleeding heart And lantern held aloft. The fisherman Of men; wonder-worker; stuntman Walking on the water; table-turner; Raiser of the dead. You, resigned, In wine-red robe at the nightmare Supper table. Then carrying the load.

The scapegoat of the cross. The mocking Crown of thorns. The hanging head.

All gone. All lost. All sold.

At best, a metaphor. At worst, a story. And you like one of the family Sent abroad. The house is not the same Without you. Not quite home.

Diana Hendry