Sunday, April 6, 2014

PAD - Day 6 - Poem 4 - another night poem ....

He said in the night…
“a coward dies a thousand deaths a brave man dies but once”
sitting on the edge of my three-year-old bed -
I curled trembling in the ebon dark – inhaling his strength
held in each strand of his wool bathrobe – inhaled sweet cigarette smoke
and turpentine – and curled trembling in the dancing dark –
reaching for bravery I found only one small female coward –
shivering in the now shared dark
stilling only – finally – in the silent, strong curve of my father
solid sentinel sitting