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.
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