Elegy for My father
Red roses heap
down on a mahogany casket
heave memories of struggle
to race within
and without
uproot pineapple soil
leaving
judgments
art
social history,
as
a suited Haitian farmer
digs your grave
red roses for the brave
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whoever Said
“Time heals all wounds”
is a smug son of a bitch
Who’s never:
wallowed in the open sore
pressed a bruise blue
or panted the fist clenched heart
for year on year on year
Who doesn’t know:
the pain centered in a name
the physicality of space remembered
the haunt of unforgotten touch
the replay of words spoken or unspoken
the wreckage of regret
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bio: Heather Thompson, a practicing lawyer who lives in the Bahamas, writes poetry as time permits. For the past three years, she has attended workshops at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, which have stimulated her writing and skills. In the summer of 2009 she participated in a poetry workshop at the Bahamas Writers Summer Institute. Thompson’s work appears in Tongues of the Ocean.
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