Fractals Photos Poetry Prose Watercolor

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Memento Mori

Memento Mori

He didn’t talk about
the red-orange flag
or stained knife
the military pistol
or handful of coins
each with a center hole.

He held them separate
paced dark nights
in silence.

When I was grown
he might have spoken
but I was deaf to history,
even his.

Memories marched
beside my father,
beyond the Styx,
left me with his cross.

No comments: