Witness Of The Past
We were seven and went to sleep, every night,
always at the same time.
Father, mother, three sons and two daughters.
Then, from open doors of the rooms, beginning
by the eldest to the youngest and one at a time,
the full darkness always heard a familiar ballad
singing – your blessing, dad; your blessing, mom.
So, permeating the corridors came in one by one:
Then, aloud and in bed, they joined in prayers,
what worked as singular lullaby to put us asleep.
At dawn, father awakened us from the backyard
with his axe, by cracking firewood for the stove.
He was a scholar, but fond of the old manners.
Indeed grave and serious a man, never failed
when we asked for a good companion.
He and mother performed so peculiar a couple,
father the newest of a thirteen-brother clan
and mother the eldest of ten; a contrast that,
it seems, joined them forever.
Her jewels, so she called them, a delicate watch
and a wedding ring were quite enough to hold
blessed and blissful a union.
We lived by the simplest lifestyle, no refrigerator,
gas stove, or electric shower.
Mother ironed clothes by an old charcoal fired iron,
cooked tasty lunches in smoky a kitchen and made
the most fine suits in a hand-crank sewing machine.
You must believe that there were saints.
By that time, two of them lived with us.
© Edilson Afonso Ferreira
About the Author
Mr. Ferreira, 73, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese, having been published in venues like Right Hand Pointing, The Lake, Spirit Fire Review, The Provo Canyon, Red Wolf Journal, Whispers, Indiana Voice Journal, Synesthesia, Algebra of Owls and some others. Ferreira lives in a small town (Formiga (MG) with wife, three sons and a granddaughter and is trying to publish his first Poetry Book by the coming year of 2017. He began to write at age 67, after retirement as a Bank Manager. Has been nominated for The Pushcart Prize 2016. See more of his poems at www.edilsonmeloferreira.com.
Categories: Featured Writer's