Thinking of you, Military Mom.
How can I touch you when you're far away?
A poem is not as salient as a kiss.
Poems but poorly presences convey,
Perhaps because of all that words must miss.
Yet write I must because you are not here,
Father farther from my eyes than heart,
A face more frequent than it might appear,
Tempered by the tyrannies of art.
How might I be with you in ways that are
Equal to the passion of my yearning,
Reaching for a grace beyond the bar
'Ere there's any word of your returning.
So may the time between us quickly pass,
Days of longing that long cannot last,
A time when but through words we may embrace,
Yet know that soon we will be face to face.
By Dimitri Shostakovich
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