by e.e. cummings
my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height
this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm
newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots
and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.
The rest is here
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Carol's Corner.
A perfect tribute for your brother. I wish him strength and peace and if not laughter, then its memory.
ReplyDeletegreat choice. i am, strangely, without words beyond that.
ReplyDeleteYeah. Beautiful. Just beautiful. Words just can't say...
ReplyDelete"love is the whole and more than all"
ReplyDeleteHad not seen this one before. Will have to reread several more times to explore its depth.
love this:
"joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would
rejoice"
Gorgeous.
"because my Father lived his soul
ReplyDeletelove is the whole and more than all"
Oh, how I love e.e.
Karen hit on my same favorite lines. Bittersweet. So bittersweet...
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this Sara. I do love cummings. Blessing on your brother & family.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful tribute. Thank you.
ReplyDelete