My Grandfather's Warehouse in Newington

My grandfather’s warehouse
has been painted many times and
colours
since he left
on a ferryboat to Belfast. And
I have left here
many times too, but
always I come back
as if
I was pulled, sent or
rooted.

She called me one day
to tell me about my grandfather’s warehouse.
He was poor. Redundant. Strange
that I found my way here
after so many hidden doors
floors caving in and
spiral stairs.

He worked
by the railway
and now I do too, making pictures drawn
in by the unseen
a persistent dream memory, perhaps
held in the genes.

I am back
where he started, emptying
his pockets to purchase
safe passage.

By Janine Pinion