A Poem For Sunday


"My Father" by Nina Cassian:

My father now fills the world
with his being. I presume
he grew immensely in approaching
the supreme hour, DOOM . . .

His baldness is the moon itself
as he steps from shore to shore.
He was never so saintly
and he’s more earthly than ever before.

My father abandons my flesh.
I keep his eyeglasses instead,
to wear them when the dream comes by,
not to be blinded or fall out of bed.

(From Continuum: Poems by Nina Cassian © 2008, Nina Cassian. Used by permission of W.W.Norton & Company. Photo by Flickr user photosteve101. Visit his site here.)