My father / Kreon



3 thoughts on “My father / Kreon

  1. Well there are many ways of being held prisoner,
    I am thinking as I stride over the moor.
    As a rule after lunch mother has a nap

    and I go out to walk.
    The bare blue trees and bleached wooden sky of April
    carve into me with knives of light.

    Something inside it reminds me of childhood—
    it is the light of the stalled time after lunch
    when clocks tick

    and hearts shut
    and fathers leave to go back to work
    and mothers stand at the kitchen sink pondering

    something they never tell.
    You remember too much,
    my mother said to me recently.

    Why hold onto all that? And I said,
    Where can I put it down?
    She shifted to a question about airports.

  2. Whatever harm I may have done
    In all my life in all your wide creation
    If I cannot repair it
    I beg you to repair it,

    And then there are all the wounded
    The poor the deaf the lonely and the old
    Whom I have roughly dismissed
    As if I were not one of them.
    Where I have wronged them by it
    And cannot make amends
    I ask you
    To comfort them to overflowing,

    And where there are lives I may have withered around me,
    Or lives of strangers far or near
    That I’ve destroyed in blind complicity,
    And if I cannot find them
    Or have no way to serve them,

    Remember them. I beg you to remember them

    When winter is over
    And all your unimaginable promises
    Burst into song on death’s bare branches.

    “A Short Testament” by Anne Porter

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