by Gillian Clarke
Taid is a Welsh word for Grandfather. My Taid died when I was about 2 years old. One day when I was about 18, searching for something in a drawer, I found a scrap of the dress I had worn as a two-year old child on that long ago day. Suddenly, in a flash, I remembered the funeral. In the poem I struggle to remember more details from that day and to understand what I remembered. Yet the images remain a puzzle, and the child’s eye view of them renders them merely mysterious to the adult mind.