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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Experience >> ID #463455 |
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Firstborn
Tonight the moon passes into the shadow of the earth. You, my firstborn, sleep while I attend a fire that will die, a moon that will darken. In the distance I hear the traffic on the highway, a perimeter of stars. I cannot tell you how each new thing cradles me, hushes and feeds me. I am a waiting man. (O God, how my patience stares back at me!) Tomorrow I return, a stranger to myself, to your mother, brothers, sisters. But tonight I watch you pass from the shadow of your father into a world more light. You, my firstborn, sleep as the fire passes into darkness, and the moon escapes the shadow of the earth. And now I, too, will sleep, man that I am-- father, lover, watcher in the night.
© Copyright 2002 Eliot (UN: eliot_a at Writing.Com).
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