A Heart Sutra
I have searched my heart and found
an open road edged with aloe,
wet cedars hanging over a stone fence
where my grandfather leaned
one August evening and surveyed
the posts that grew closer each year
after putting six children through school,
and burying his eldest child, a boy
whom he'd expected to inherit his store,
the land after he joined his father
in a small cemetery in Bethel Town
which would now hold the body
of his son gone ahead to prepare
a way. And even though my grandfather
knew that when he would say goodbye
to the faces that he loved, they would cry
harder than when he put his boy down
to rise with morning glories,
he could still whisper, "It is good."
***
Throughout the month of April, National Poetry Month, poets from the Caribbean and South Florida will be featured on this blog.
4 comments:
It is good. And so is this.
Give thanks, Rethabile!
very moving poem,
Thank you, crafty green poet. It was one of those poems about which I had some doubts because it moves between biography, fiction, and religious belief.
Entirely new way of writing and so the worry is, did I hit the right note, etc.?
So thank you..
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