Monday, February 23, 2009
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Monday, February 23, 2009
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Calumet of our ancestors
shielded jealously like an infant
buried alive like imhotep
On our alley
lives this Vintage, antique
(we walk heedlessly on it)
for decades
Today…
my father stumbles on this treasure
where he could be lost on his armchair
on the terrace;
sending - goodwill message to the moon -
alluring redolence to the gods
exorcising our turmoil
He discovered how to
exhale his wounds
away through a siphon
via the token of peace
freeing ivory Soaring birds –
to spin freely on a dusking sky
far from here
their aerie in a blank air
When he blinks
he bids farewell to his fret;
when he hems
a wound says "I am heal"
Tomorrow…
some men are coming
to sniff their nose around
from the museum – I presume
for my father's treasure.
shielded jealously like an infant
buried alive like imhotep
On our alley
lives this Vintage, antique
(we walk heedlessly on it)
for decades
Today…
my father stumbles on this treasure
where he could be lost on his armchair
on the terrace;
sending - goodwill message to the moon -
alluring redolence to the gods
exorcising our turmoil
He discovered how to
exhale his wounds
away through a siphon
via the token of peace
freeing ivory Soaring birds –
to spin freely on a dusking sky
far from here
their aerie in a blank air
When he blinks
he bids farewell to his fret;
when he hems
a wound says "I am heal"
Tomorrow…
some men are coming
to sniff their nose around
from the museum – I presume
for my father's treasure.
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