Mirror World

Mirror World

A life ago my father said, “I saw
your plane pass overhead – stood alone in
wind and rain and watched you go.” I shrugged and
went upon my way, “Choose the way you waste
your day, I've hay to make and seed to sow.”

Then, amid the hours of feeding pets and
tending flowers, I saw the vapour-trail
bisect the sky, a tear spilt by the bluest
eye as you went out to set-about a
world I'd left undone – to sing the songs I
couldn't hum, and all my love was on the
wing in tender wistful thoughts of you that
day. My father must have felt this too but
couldn't say, and I, the one with life to
find, wouldn't pause to read his mind. I know
it's much the same for you, just doing what
you have to do, but if we never say
or show, how can the other ever know?

The one is always unaware as at
the other's heart they tear. My sorrow as
you speed away is full of words we did
not say. Maybe one-day you'll feel this yearning
too... in the mirror-world of me and you.

The Singer

I once lived in a small town in a remote part of the country.
Then, after 16 years,
I was shocked to find that I wasn’t fully accepted by
people I looked on as friends.
I left and vowed never to return.

***

The Singer

Where black rocks bare their fangs and roar
and sea shouts angry at the shore,
when rain comes sweeping wet-walled night
and lamps are pools of yellow light
the singer stirs from out the deep
where phantoms of his memory sleep.

He trudges by the lighted inn
as jest and laughter ring within...

“Blood is the bond of brother-love
...deep roots fit others for the glove.
But solo is a finite role
no mirror for the choirs deep soul.

My lonely strain was not a theme
that bound the past to future dream.
I played my part I sang it strong
but feel no call for further song.”

He wanders on along his way
where seas shed tears of spume and spray
now cries the wind as rain comes down
to draw a curtain o’er the town