Prayer for the Dead is a prose poem.
I was born in Redcar, an obscure little seaside town on the north-east coast of England, which provides the geography for Prayer.
I now live in Seaton Carew, an even more obscure seaside place on the other side of the river.
I am married to a wonderful woman, who believes in me, and we have a small son.
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Prayer for the Dead
I drop questions as coins into the wishing well of the past.
There are so many things I need to know but never will. There are so many questions I dare not ask. The more I search for truth, the more I am convinced I will find a lie. It is too late to begin again. It always is. I must make do with what I have and my memory provides but a poor and patchy record of what went before.
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