VOICES

Childhood comes
step by step
climbs the stairs
knocks at the door

"Who's there?"
"Your dead mother"
"Things of the past"
"No one's there"

So many voices beyond our own.
And what if it is we out there
knocking on the door? Or we who went away?
And are alone?

by Manuel António Pina

Other poems of MANUEL ANTÓNIO PINA (9)

Comments (12)

.........oh so very sad his father is leaving for vietnam......great write..
An experience of your life, felt deeply and expressed well.
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i feel the terror as i read, but one thing, nowhere is cool. Good work
In the cold swamps of Vietnam He must have held his son close In a soggy wallet - piece of home A father on the hostile distant shore.... Excellent poem
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