in a land where I do not know how to count,
roll along while I walk cobbled streets with precision
back stepping through mistaken turns.
I wander streets traveled by those he loved
seeing discoveries there invented
walking down history that led to his profession
and my freedom in a new world
unbound by common condemnation
no goose stepping in line
to bells that mark the time
Freed to think beyond isolating walls
of truths that hide
and yet protect
that surround but also strangle
but once unwound what can
be bidden to hold us close and not forgotten?
So there in every kirche
with the grim saints over looking
skeltoned remains for only one euro,
I light two candles
in prayer for parents
whose time is shortly measured
and thank the youth, soon a father,
who set us each on paths tangential.