FREEING BAMBOO WITH MY FATHER

FREEING BAMBOO WITH MY FATHER

I looked out from dreary windows

To notice our beloved bamboo

Was wilting in the night.

The next day, when light returned,

Me and him, 

My father and I,

Slowly lifted off the weight:

“Free the bamboo!” 

We chanted, 

And watched each shoot reawaken

Wriggling free from 

The void.

They regain their shape

And escape 

Desolation,

These fallen shoots.

Although unspoken,

So do we.

3/4/19 - CT

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

well, first of all, this reminded me of things I would do with my father...we would fix things together, save things together...I miss him so much.
But this also leads me down another path...that of the destructive disease we are dealing with, the violent parts of the protests...and wondering if we can regain our own shape as a country.
NY has dealt with so much during this time...and I really feel for my old home state.
thank you for this write...you have elegantly spoken of the "unspoken."
j.

[Beingofwords (Christine)]

Thanks for the thoughtful review, J. Sounds like it evoked memories of your own father, very sweet to hear a snippet of the things you shared with him. I wrote this one a few years ago, fascinating, though, that it can be applied to today by the insightful reader. Thanks again.