Until My Daughters Return Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

The night has learned the language of my pain;
It gathers tears the daylight dares not show.
Yet through the storm I guard love's sacred flame;
Like faithful rivers, hidden mercies flow.
My empty rooms remember laughter's grace,
Where little footsteps taught the dawn to sing.
Now silence wears the perfume of your face,
And lonely winds bear fragments of your spring.

O' Olivia, Carissa—stars I still adore,
Though distance builds a sea between our days.
Your names are keys upon my faithful shore,
Unlocking hope through sorrow's winding maze.
The moon becomes a mother to my dreams,
Its silver fingers soothe a father's heart.
Though fate has torn apart familiar seams,
No earthly hand can tear our souls apart.

The world may weave its garments out of lies,
Yet truth, though bruised, still walks with quiet light.
The oak need not persuade the watching skies;
Its roots proclaim their testimony bright.
My weary hands have carried bread through rain,
And lit the hearth when every coin was few.
Though gratitude was buried beneath pain,
The heavens counted every deed as true.

So let tomorrow bloom beyond this night;
The darkest seed still courts the morning dew.
For God, who clothes the stars in patient light,
Will keep a father's covenant with you.
Until the day your gentle arms I hold,
I'll plant my prayers where faithful lilies grow.
For love is fire no winter wind grows cold,
And every tear shall teach the dawn to glow.