Plays & Poems
Family My Home
Private circulation only
I stand upon the
mountain of my life
and count the tumbling leaves of calendars
to find upon my branch and tree of time
some prophecies for all your challenges.
My mountain is of
sound and solid earth
of family’s common lineage and tribe
and special loyalty to common birth
as rites of passage each arrive.
Family is my
fortune, as is yours,
although you build your separate towers
on landscapes kindred glimpse through doors
half-closed beyond their busy hours.
A fortune now you
honour with this rite
to toast your wealth of gathering years
your strength of near and dear this night,
your shield against all dooms and fears,
A toast to wish
your mountain grows
with outlook clear to far horizons
abundant in your family’s glow
unbroken past and future’s visions.
A sister is my might have been
if in her place in birthright’s queue,
the mirror of past we both have seen
my mutual kin through wrath and rue.
We honour the
other, each to each,
through all the fearful thrums and throes
and oppositions we may reach
but also kin that loyalty knows.
A sister is a
common in all the universe
yet common sibling to the self
uncommon to all of life but me.
The one with whom,
whatever the rift
or lilt of fortune for better or worse,
whatever the shape of separate wealth
I can let all strife and quarrelling be.