Oct/Nov 2010 Poetry |
The Nut Tree
The same day when my father was born,
My grandfather planted the nut tree in the garden.
He took a shovel and dug the hole into the lawn.Then he put the young plant into and covered it.
For a boy, he said, I pray God to be stable and firm
As this nut tree will be.First thing we did in the war was cutting its branches.
This bony tree was warming us for a long time.Then Fahro, the carpenter, made a coffin
for my father from its trunk.The war was over.
In the place where my grandfather planted the nut tree,
The shadow is only what is left.