Father and Son

 Now in the suburbs and the falling light
I followed him, and now down sandy road
Whitter than bone-dust, through the sweet
Curdle of fields, where the plums
Dropped with their load of ripeness, one by one.

Mile after mile I followed, with skimming feet,
After the secret master of my blood,
Him, steeped in the odor of ponds, whose indomitable love
Kept me in chains.
 Strode years; stretched into bird;
Raced through the sleeping country where I was young,
The silence unrolling before me as I came,
The night nailed like an orange to my brow.


How should I tell him my fable and the fears,
How bridge the chasm in a casual tone,
Saying, "The house, the stucco one you built,
We lost.
 Sister married and went from home,
And nothing comes back, it's strange, from where she goes.

I lived on a hill that had too many rooms;
Light we could make, but not enough of warmth,
And when the light failed, I climbed under the hill.

The papers are delivered every day;
I am alone and never shed a tear.
"

At the water's edge, where the smothering ferns lifted
Their arms, "Father!" I cried, "Return! You know
The way.
 I’ll wipe the mudstains from your clothes;
No trace, I promise, will remain.
 Instruct
You son, whirling between two wars,
In the Gemara of your gentleness,
For I would be a child to those who mourn
And brother to the foundlings of the field
And friend of innocence and all bright eyes.

0 teach me how to work and keep me kind.
"

Among the turtles and the lilies he turned to me
The white ignorant hollow of his face.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...