A shadow looms around the corner -

it doesn't hide

it seeks to uncover

the images my mind

            has tried

to conceal and cover up,

it bubbles.

My head doesn't follow. Exposed

it sinks like unrequited love.

 

A Spanish Armada forms in the fog,

a land where my father came from.

One I was never familiar with.

Yet this shadow still unveils that picture.

Tremors, twitching, threaten…

            I try…

to mount another reel, to frame another film.

The shadow shudders quicker,

the shiver follows thither -

My mind succumbs. The image takes shape.

In goes a tornado

 

            the memory is clear.

​

I remember and I see into the shadow:

                                                 my father.

That moment sticks like gum in front of my eyes.

I turn the next corner.

Some things are best left hidden and shadowed.