The Other Shore

I shout, but there is no echo,

Let alone an answer.

Father, are you listening over there

On the other shore?

If you hear me, start moving

So we can meet,

And the miles of blanket bog between us

And the dark water,

The wind, that makes a no-sound

Of my cupped hands,

Will cancel themselves out.

Time is passing,

Distance does not diminish,

Yet I could swear

I see you, far away over there

On the other shore,

Waist-deep in your depthless element,

Unconcerned, casting.

For you, all time has stopped,

That much is clear,

But here, it grows ever colder,

And the driftwood of an eternal autumn

Keeps coming in, on every wave.

I blow the foam off hollowed-out reeds,