[lit-ideas] My father's wound
- From: Torgeir Fjeld <torgeir_fjeld@xxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Wed, 8 Aug 2012 01:34:17 +0100 (BST)
Are we not always entangled in altruistic debates -- if the option is
narcissistic self interest? Some find meaning in picking up their father's
burden -- as in the enclosed poem by Zambian born Indian poet Vivek Narayanan.
Enjoi/n.
-t
---
MY FATHER 'S WOUND
Avocado trees on the moon. Aichigum,
mullukumb, Billy Blue Gum. This is not exactly
a confessional. My father's wound
was also my wound, dirt outside
Vedanta Hall, blood in the dirt
below the gutter pipe, blood like washing
undone in my banian fold. I am not saying
that blood was the thing. My father
was singing. From the tall narrow barred window,
the gravel driveway, in the heat, my father's wound
is jelly to the touch. I touch it now.
Vivek Narayanan (s)
---
Torgeir Fjeld
Oslo, Norway
http://independent.academia.edu/TorgeirFjeld // http://facebook.com/phatic
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