I take my place with my father
in the tumbling echoes of joy-songs
as the dark hours light the moon.
We sit as matter becomes energy,
death becomes life becomes death,
and I feed my doubts to the flames.
Fears spill stinging from my eyes
he drapes comfort on my shoulders,
and my mouth is rinsed with honesty.
As the dark hours claim the moon,
life becomes death becomes life,
and my father wraps solace around me.
(c) christine DINGLEY 2011