Is sometimes the rushing
Of a green river, carving
Stone pillars in the crumbling canyons
Of my Heart. Driven apart.
The riven highlands offer the years
A pebble at a time. A rock here
And there standing when
All about broke into dust eons
Ago. Today is a bridge under
Which the rushing waters sound
The deep, a thing to stand on
When all else seems tumbling
Past. To not have to leap. This
Bridge will not be
The last.
When giving directions
to daughters, the astute father
is usually content with rights
And lefts, and the odd mention
Of traffic lights. “Follow the sun”
My girls are told, and I think
– So much wisdom for one
Instruction to hold. Teary eyed
I listen for further pearls.
“Then go straight and turn right”.
And that, my friend, is how
We failed to rendezvous one
Lovely summer evening. So
Now, as you wonder if there is
A deeper meaning – remember
‘Second star to the right and
Straight on till morning’? Cute
Peter Pan moment is actually
A warning.
Today I read the stuff my kids write
To my Dad. It´s not TSE, obviously,
But I watched this man of main and might
How he took each image, each phrase
And found in it its unique quality,
And found its one claim to praise,
And lifted that praise to the skies
And laughed a world of delight
Into being. Right there. Before my eyes.
We meet every morning for
Toast and tea: what I call
Elevensies, and what he
Thinks of as a stolen snack
Behind his own back. Such
Is his faith in me. All things
Are grist for the mill that
Grinds easy and mellow. Much
Is sifted, chaff from grain; today
Even bills were brought to
The table. We settled accounts
Of the year’s remains. To weigh
Amounts on the calculator vetted
Is not easy when the soul is indebted.
I saw this as I fought to repay as
Best as I was able, kind with
Cash. Foolish to think I could find
Such a stash.
Giti Chandra 