Running With The Wind

Poem

to my father

You’ve been running all your life.
Running from what was hidden
in the past,
in the future
and at last: black abyss.

You’ve played hide and seek
hiding from your fears
seeking mother’s lap,
year after year.

Your candle passed away
Your rusty chains were broken
Your spirit was released,
flying over fields of wheat.

Now, You are free, I know!
Somewhere running with the wind.

more by DIMITAR MITROFFSKY

photograph by Nick Scheerbart

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