 |
| Rebecca Salsbury |
meditation 2020
Carla Sarett
Thoughts come and go
of masks by the Bay and
homeless encampments
under the freeway.
They are not my thoughts and yet,
if I don’t press them to me
like wayward orphans
who will hold them close?
Your light-eyed father’s passage
from Port Elizabeth to Athens,
the city that betrayed him
Your father who died before I met you
Your father who named you after his father
whom he despised, but said it was tradition.
If I disown your father’s sorrow,
who will weep for him?
(appeared in slightly different form in print anthology, PITTOC, poetry writting during Covid.)
