Remnants of My Father

Once standing tall
The mast of an invincible ship
Reliable as sturdy timber
How have you rotted!

Your brain had changed,
but your thoughts had not
History had changed,
but you had not

Sinking beneath
the dust of history
You wander in a daze
Panicked and confused

Sailing on a sinking ship to oblivion
Mistaking gulls for the angel of death
Blind to the sharp rocks ahead

Demons of your own making
Must they torture us as well?
The ghosts that haunt you are not yet dead
Leave them alone well enough

Traveling rudderless
through a sea of madness
Towards an uncertain twilight

Touch of Spring

I stand beneath a shower of blossoms
White as the wooly clouds of spring
In the spell of a fragrance wholesome
Refreshed in the vital wind she brings

Devoting her life to ceaseless toil
Touching with magic at earth’s service
Through the branches, into the soil
Waking life in every crevice

Buds and blooms rise to the sky
Flurries of petals fill the air
Birds ascend to the blue and high
Showing beauty without a care