How history repeats itself

Fighting-with-Your-Father

from my son’s lips flow
the forgotten voice of my
youthful arrogance

as ebb tides flow

with eyes set on sea
I hear the voice of white on
blue now call to me

the cawing of crows
heard on a dark moonless night
lends darkness a voice

the forest is now
alive with the voice of spring
dancing with the wind

The sound of one voice

is as effective as many

to break the silence.

J M Lysun

Photo from drmartinlutherking.net