Dear parents,
I forgive you my life,
Begotten in a drab town,
The intention was good;
Passing the street now,
I see still the remains of sunlight.
 
It was not the bone buckled;
You gave me enough food
To renew myself.
It was the mind’s weight
Kept me bent, as I grew tall.
 
It was not your fault.
What should have gone on,
Arrow aimed from a tried bow
At a tried target, has turned back,
Wounding itself
With questions you had not asked.

  • 0
  • 0
  •  
  •  
Entrar para comentar...
Email

Otras obras de R. S. Thomas...

Algunos poetas que siguen a R. S. Thomas...

Patricia May Neiderer Teddy Robson R. L. McCallum Peter Samaan Lelue Franz Debbie Findlay