To School and Back ( Published in Night and Day Anthology by New Island Books 2008)
(for Martha)
Your second year already
And my first as your daily guide.
Your little hand in mine,
We walk the quarter mile in silence,
Just two amid a stream of others,
Part of the crowd, but separate.
In the yard the children
Form straight lines and wait
In expectation of the class;
The first constraint – the first sign
Of the hand of man upon the face of God
After the fall in Eden.
I watch your peerless image fade,
Eclipsed by Plato’s puppet forms.
A door closes (perhaps another opens
Somewhere in return), and you are gone.
The morning’s mine to think of you
And wait till half past one.
I hear the angels’ voices rise and fall,
Benediction through an open window.
And then a sudden tumult, an energy released,
The angels beat their wings upon the glass
Until the gates of heaven open and you are there
Before me, smiling, telling me your life.
Your little hand in mine,
We walk the quarter mile in silence,
Just two amid a stream of others,
Part of the crowd, but separate.
You run ahead when we attain our street,
The fallen leaves are gold stars at your feet.