Friday 8 July 2016


My father knows when great men 
were born, and when they wrote
the works that brought them fame.

When empires fell, and why
our history books fail
us, time and again.

He teaches me how to listen 
for the silences, the in-between states,
the graceful exits of saints.

Two birds fly past me
and out of sight. My father knows
when the birds come, and when the rain.

Watch for the thread, he says, 
and I see it. I feel it strain, trying to maintain 
our broken wings, our feathered remains.

We are tied together, my father and I
and you, echoing souls, gathering close
and closer by the day.  


Sherry Blue Sky said...

So lovely to see you all together and happy with those gorgeous, brilliant children. Happy times! Sending you blessings - and a cackle.

Anonymous said...

Hope you have many more occasions to take such a happy photo all together.
Best wishes to you.

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