Love Poem: Letters Written In Fetters - 5
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Written by: David Smalling

Letters Written In Fetters - 5

Dear son                        
                       (We get interrupted but love continues,
                        For we are not defined in dictionaries
                        Love is God and we are his image;
                        You and I are only great reflections
                        Depending on light and surface,
                        Love comes out as the substance of truth's shadow)
                        And using my wings
                        The sun would have made it killed you
                        Or washed me out of your memory salt as sea
                        Or could the beanstalk down
                        For such a tree is prime for tragedy
                        Watch it metamorphosize into a cross
                        Where the father was in the son
                        Redeeming us from history's fragment
                        Reconciling creation and creator
                        For what are ideals but the unattainable
                        The plant of figment
                        And we licking our lips are destroyed
                        Father and son, I am about to open my heart.

                        I speak to the enemy if I have to
                        But I would rather be silent before him
                        For there is a time when the pen is still
                        And wrath consumes the will (action is unequivocal)
                        You and I are silent like stars and eternity
                        As if your judgment are precise
                        Why do you think mothers keep bean seeds in desolate draws?
                        You neither know the purpose nor what it is
                        Fathers are not accidents
                        Before the world was created, and in a thousand father's loins
                        Like stars we were deccided
                        Mothers are born loaded with eggs and chance
                        Fathers toil to make what they have
                        And it is no easy grind of day or tide
                        But you will read this prefering to emasculate our oral traditions
                        I am calling for you to meet me face to face
                        And let the laws of kinship suffice for argument.