A husband hides his daughter’s eyes
Until fingers become sunlit orange husks
That envelop missing questions.
I have already planted seeds
That will grow into a day as tall as you,
And beyond, long after we are all gone.
Roots are laid flat, an earthen sheet
To fill the soul, like a balloon,
Just enough to let it go.
Each day will shrink into its distance
So the world might lend some weight
And our problems become shared.
Allow gravity room to breathe; invite change
To move beyond each finished page
Folded back upon itself.
Beat your wings that the world might turn.
Adam Steiner writes about the NHS. His poetry and stories appear in 3:AM, The Cadaverine, Spontaneity, Abridged 0-13, The Literateur, Nostrovia! SquawkBack, NOUS, Poems Underwater anthology. Adam was selected for the 2014 Ó Bhéal Coventry-Cork Twin Cities Poetry Exchange. He is Poetry Editor of Here Comes Everyone magazine.