It was a kind reminder of a Saint’s day
moved too soon in the life after life
where flowers never wither, and rivers are always fresh,
and the human heart is forever coherent.
John has not killed any dreadful dragons
still, in a humble sacrifice
he has blessed others and has made possible the glory
of the true Life.
I have found these faint memories
in the depths of an imaginary drawer
with fields of gold tenderly waving in the wind
like the breath of my father on his birthday.
Dedicated to my father, John, born on St. John’s day, June 24th.
90 words, Adela Galasiu, 2016
Perhaps I came hear on the day I needed to hear your words. Sometimes they come together to signify something greater than the words alone. My father, also John, as am I, died last February. I was touched by those faint memories in the depths of an imaginary drawer. Thank you.
December 12, 2016 at 20:11