Our most beloved one has gone away
as we have risen, our children
dewy-eyed to sunrise, the door open.
The empty table set, the full cupboards bare;
the morning light a streak of ash:
Our Father is not there.

Our most beloved one has gone away
while we have slept; as we have dreamt
of his hands he has shown us our own.
My, how we have grown since we went to bed!
and yet, the children weep,
for he has left them alone.

Our most beloved one has gone away
and we did not see his joy at leaving,
early in the morning hours,
when the daylight also hides.
His footsteps were not dark with anger,
his eyes not bright with tears;
and yet the children cry for him,
no longer at their side.

Our most beloved one has gone away,
and we did not watch him leave.
the light not warm, our beds not soft,
our hearts are rife with grief.
the sombre children hearthside,
the sky still dark above,
the sun in deference having stayed below.
Our most beloved one is gone;
we did not need his love.

§432 · November 4, 2004 · Tags: ·

Leave a Reply