Good old Facebook. Today it reminded me of various things that happened on this day over the last few years. There was a photograph of my then six year old daughter with a large plastic horse, lots of posts about working on new songs (now all complete and available on Bandcamp) and, from 2012, a poem about my dad. It’s not a great poem but it worked well enough at the time for me to let it out.
I love reading and studying poems but I don’t write many anymore because I’m just not good enough to write anything that stands up to the 24 hour test. That is, being able to be read 24 hours later and not seem like crap. This poem though, this poem was written in the heat of the moment and posted before I could get too precious. Then I forgot it, until today. For once in my life I actually wrote a poem that works. For the record, my dad died two months after this was written.
The stars are markers of the past.
They tell the tales of giants and dwarves.
Their light conveys the stories although
That light has left them long ago.
Just like the boy with a catapult,
Whose lengthy journey through the years
Has stretched out and almost erased
The stars are makers of the past.
They are calling,
Every morning as they fade
They invite him
To join them.
Twinkles in his eyes,
But one day soon,
The stars’ delicate light,
Will catapult him,
Into the past.