Poetry for his father: Footprints by Matthew M C Smith from Fevers of the Mind Issue 2

Michael CAF Smith (1948-2012)

Footprints (for my father)

Our footprints, the tracks of our play,
going all ways, ran deep along the shore.
All our lives we laughed along the stretch,
we laughed at simple games, splashing
through pools of silver, across sands of 
burnished gold. We laughed against the sky
and you listened to young voices,
spellbound, time out of mind.
That day, the wind whipped the waves,
the swell surged, we were beaten
by torrents, caught in the rising storm,
the crash, deafening.
We floundered, soaked to the bone.
The light was cold, so very cold
and we shouted as we saw you,
separate, tides encircling,
gazing out in silence.
We saw your still, bowed head,
as if in prayer. The rip took your feet,
and you were taken, consumed,
the falling man.
We took your arms, hands,
searched in eyes of ages blue,
taking that curve of jaw, seeing your soul
as a burning ship and still your head was bowed.
As the tide slipped, you were so white, so white,
kissed by time's silent lips.
No cry, nor whisper, a cross shape near
crested roar and the people you love
carry you from the shore

For more on Matthew check the link below
https://feversofthemind.com/2021/02/23/poetry-interview-with-matthew-m-c-smith-black-bough-poetry/

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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