For a Fisherman

It’s not easy talking one man to another, son to father
Men tied by time, not easy to untie a bird’s nest
In a reel of memory, find love
Without our common and particular pain
Blocking the way, a word– a breath between us.

The days rise and go, gravity tugs bone and blood;
Some men are made fools
Thinking they know
Who will to the grave go first…
And not clearing the stone in a word
Letting go the trap of time
Snares some
Crying out while silent they remain–

Why we fail to speak our love is strange
When speaking ends our pain, father
From the darkness of my simple heart

I love you more than trout love the sound of rain
More than lilacs the April scented air
Or the elk its antler– you taught me well:
Not in business or in war is the measure
Of the soul, but in the love we come to know.

 

 

copyrightRayn Roberts 2017

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