Saturday, 10 May 2014

She Will Be A River

The father drives,
distant as a mountain, 
silent as a mountain is silent,
rich with the secrets 
that sit beside him.

The daughter asks:
Where were you born? 
What’s your favourite food? 
He answers with facts, 
each word a lie.
She hears whispers 
from the empty seats:
He was born 
on the outskirts of death.
His heart longs 
for honeycake at midnight.

She has decided: 
she will be a river, 
will rush along 
through the open fields 
like an oracle, 
telling everyone her secrets. 
They will look 
into her clear waters 
and see the pebbles 
and the stones, 
the piles of ash 
and the mounds of gold.

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