Anny Ballardini
DARK WAS THE NIGHT
COLD WAS THE GROUND
(Blind Willie Johnson)
I, the daughter, have to die
Having you, Father, stopped breathing
I do not want to cry
& keep going back to bide
To when you are still ailing
I, the daughter, have to die
My Father’s swing’s on the blues’ side
Charlie Patton, Willie Johnson Blind
I don’t wanna cry
Best singer of liturgical hymn, thy
Word is fed by white Christly faith in
I, the daughter, who fatherless must die
Of mounts and deer the soulful sky
Miles walked, worker, giver, oxen
Without you, I can’t but cry
Although far, severed, unclear, high
No one to defy, world out of my skin
I, the daughter, must die
I do not want to cry
Anny Ballardini edits Poet’s Corner, an online poetry site; and writes a blog: Narcissus Works. She has translated several contemporary poets into Italian and English. Her collections of poetry: Opening and Closing Numbers, was published by Moria Press in 2005; Ghost Dance in 33 Movements by Otoliths appeared in print in 2009.
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DARK WAS THE NIGHT
COLD WAS THE GROUND
(Blind Willie Johnson)
I, the daughter, have to die
Having you, Father, stopped breathing
I do not want to cry
& keep going back to bide
To when you are still ailing
I, the daughter, have to die
My Father’s swing’s on the blues’ side
Charlie Patton, Willie Johnson Blind
I don’t wanna cry
Best singer of liturgical hymn, thy
Word is fed by white Christly faith in
I, the daughter, who fatherless must die
Of mounts and deer the soulful sky
Miles walked, worker, giver, oxen
Without you, I can’t but cry
Although far, severed, unclear, high
No one to defy, world out of my skin
I, the daughter, must die
I do not want to cry
Anny Ballardini edits Poet’s Corner, an online poetry site; and writes a blog: Narcissus Works. She has translated several contemporary poets into Italian and English. Her collections of poetry: Opening and Closing Numbers, was published by Moria Press in 2005; Ghost Dance in 33 Movements by Otoliths appeared in print in 2009.
posted by mark young at 9:25 PM
2 Comments:
Reminds me of my late father. His going helped me to grow up and to realize the necessity of continuing the relay race. I don't want to be the weak link in the chain: living his memory means rolling up my sleeves, standing chest out, and ready to die working for my family.
Thank you, Obododimma. You are a great man, a great father to your children, and a good friend to me.
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