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Tuesday, January 11, 2011


A river, a dam,
An English dam they said.
Welsh water for the English,
But I was from a far distant land.

Above all a woman,
A girl and a woman,
from the town nearby,
Tom’s daughter.

She tried to teach me
where my soul belonged,
what it is to be me.
to love and be loved. Not easy.

We joined, stayed,
for long years,
Traveled much
as people of my land do.

Many lands, oceans separate.
Many differences.
Always, always, She came with me.

But we were different
Logic and emotion
Are not
everlasting companions.

In the years since
they have found a name for those
whose logic
demands compliance.

She left.

I have traveled alone
Many new lands,
But finally I came back
To the river, the dam, the little town.

I rang her own,
That unpronounceable name
They talked to her,
and to me, said no.

I came again
More years later
The dam, the river, all much smaller.

The house, the hotel,
She was gone.
Cardiff maybe?
But nobody knew.

I searched in vain
for that unpronounceable name.
And all I have now
is a memory.

Revised, February, 2005

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