David Ignatow

(7 February 1914 - 17 November 1997 / Brooklyn/ New York)

The Journey - Poem by David Ignatow

I am looking for a past
I can rely on
in order to look to death
with equanimity.
What was given me:
my mother’s largeness
to protect me,
my father’s regularity
in coming home from work
at night, his opening the door
silently and smiling,
pleased to be back
and the lights on
in all the rooms
through which I could run
freely or sit at ease
at table and do my homework
undisturbed: love arranged
as order directed at the next day.
Going to bed was a journey.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 19, 2010

Poem Edited: Friday, July 29, 2011

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