DADDY MOUNTAIN

Their father is made of rock

A mountain of unflinching

Against their hands-

Clawing like wind,

Pleading as rain-

Slipping down his unmoving

No hugs can scale.

 

He is a timeless mass of solid

The whole world loose around him.

Rooted in their horizon,

Too large to comprehend, too old

And silent.

 

If they could only see him at night-

He moves in the dark to their bedsides.

Their sleeping breath

Sweeping in around his heavy watchfulness

Softening his harsh edges.

 

If they could only see the caves he harbours

Their first pictures kept all these years

Caveman drawings, stickmen holding hands

Marked in permanence more precious

Than every chunk of coal he’s had dug from his seams.

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