In the end I believe it will be this

child’s drawing of the basilica

and the bridge that will matter

to me years, decades from now,

not how I saw or rendered it

bathed in cooling moonlight

or gold-pinging sunlight

but the honest, guileless hope

of these primary blues,

greens and yellows, the way they

all seem to look up regardless –

pillars and arches, trees and domes –

to a star studded sky,

each star named after a child

struggling as we all do

with the fractious world

and our place in it,

with how much if anything is set

in stone and how much is endlessly

taking shape on the floor

of our dreams waiting for a word

just one word in our ear, to soar …

I know this even before a small hand

accepts mine, walks with me awhile

oblivious to the barriers

of language and time.


(Artwork by Rosa from Children’s Home Sturovo)