Letters Written In Fetters - 5

Dear son (We get interrupted but love continues, For we are not defined in dictionaries Love is God and we are his image; You and I are only great reflections Depending on light and surface, Love comes out as the substance of truth's shadow) And using my wings The sun would have made it killed you Or washed me out of your memory salt as sea Or could the beanstalk down For such a tree is prime for tragedy Watch it metamorphosize into a cross Where the father was in the son Redeeming us from history's fragment Reconciling creation and creator For what are ideals but the unattainable The plant of figment And we licking our lips are destroyed Father and son, I am about to open my heart. I speak to the enemy if I have to But I would rather be silent before him For there is a time when the pen is still And wrath consumes the will (action is unequivocal) You and I are silent like stars and eternity As if your judgment are precise Why do you think mothers keep bean seeds in desolate draws? You neither know the purpose nor what it is Fathers are not accidents Before the world was created, and in a thousand father's loins Like stars we were deccided Mothers are born loaded with eggs and chance Fathers toil to make what they have And it is no easy grind of day or tide But you will read this prefering to emasculate our oral traditions I am calling for you to meet me face to face And let the laws of kinship suffice for argument.