Image by Rheinhardi on pixabay

My Otherworldly Man-child

~ for my son’s birthday ~

Go,

My first-born,

To a place without sorrow

Where the seasons turn

Only to the sun,

And the moon and stars exist

To cool the embers

Of your spent dreams.

Those eyes,

Familiar waters of auburn depths

Glisten with unshed tears —

At moments of moultings,

Father vanishes and mother dies.

All of a sudden, I tremble: In your

Salvation Army coat pocket,

I see the bright edge of a boarding card.

Across a chasm

Formed by two rows of plastic chairs,

You shout out a silence

Within which I kneel and pray

And I hear

The texture of your gentle heart.

The anchor of reason

Groans and breaks away —

Don’t go! Stay, please stay…

When a soft blue canyon

Full of a flock of red poppies I painted,