I knew those still, dark waters running deep,
the ones that stir the memories that I keep,
a secret place where sweetest waters flow
and feed the river at the old oxbow.
So many places calmed my storm within.
My heavy heart was filled with deep chagrin.
I often sought some solitary tree,
and said a prayer for Father and for me.
I had some choices in the woods and brakes,
bayous, rivers, streams, and darkest lakes.
They were all baptismally clear and pure,
to somehow bless the pain I would endure.
At last my quiet childhood prayer was heard,
the old man finally knew redemption's word.
I saw my father find serenity
before he drifted to eternity.
And time has also cinched the prayer for me,
a peace of mind that I could not foresee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem