Huw Knoyle
Words Fail Him
Before I was seven
And still firmly attached to the womb,
He held me in rough blue hands.
I wondered at their colour and strength
And the safety they provided.
When I was seven,
He sat at the table, leather elbowed,
Stroked a pepper dotted moustache,
He had schoolteacher written all over him.
Watching bags sag under tired eyes,
He taught me the Seven Wonders of the World,
But what I couldn’t grasp
Was why he came home black from school,
Never read a paper nor wrote his name.
When I was fourteen,
With a future of knowing the sun,
Able to read,
Able to sign a dotted line,
I saw the x marking his will,
More eloquent than any kiss.
Now believing in no wonders,
Only expectation of them,
Leaving thirst coming from nowhere
And remaining unquenched.
Page(s) 114
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