I put this window in
with my Dad
(well, I …helped him) .
large & huge
it fell on my left foot
in the putting in
my Dad cursed
heavy with hurt
& my mother angry...with him.
This window
is what
I saw my life
through
teeming with happenings
sorrowings…happinesses.
At night
I still go back
& steal into
my dreams
cut that window out
with the sharp blade of my imagination
place it ‘round
my neck
and climb back out
into reality
a memory
ninja.
No animals are ever harmed
in the making of this film
of my dream.
I walk once more
on earth
with an invisible
cut-out old window
stuck upon
my face
seeing once again
how I saw then
a child
becoming...man.
And what a man the child became...a poetry writing fool! But I think this one needs a check-up on the section about the window falling on your foot? Why did your dad curse when it was YOU who was hurt? That bit confused me...but then, I am easily confused.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Everything you write seems so effortless... I adore reading your poems Donall, it's like a light showering of confetti petals, only in words instead! HG: -) xx