The night before the lockdown,
my sister called to say
our cousin had told her:
Go see your father soon,
he is not keeping well at all.
We both knew I could not go,
and that night I dreamed
I was standing alone
in an silent railway station,
waiting for something or someone.
And all week, I’ve been trying
to remember what I was waiting for:
was it my sister, my father,
or a train to take me home?