for Karl and Mark, who share this memory of a father we never knew
text and music by
R. A. Falesch
This place has come again, still chronicling,
etching wisps of lifetimes on its terraced shore.
Truths lie sleeping in these rocks, hurled before me:
distant memories of uncertain children await their call.
Circling gulls seek signal from the half-bright
horizon of dawn’s sleeping eyelids, whose awakening glow
offered ten-thousand greetings since he passed by.
Who was he, what did I take from him?
They will tell me,
they will tell me…