For Those Five Years

A Spanish town, white, warm and blue,
A tourist street with gentle crest.
I’ll walk that street and look for them,
My pretty wife and lovely sons.
I’ll reach the top and find my world
Or maybe it will find me first.

They’ll say “Where have you been, Daddy?”
And “we’ve looked everywhere for you.”
I’ll make excuses, reassure,
With “I was in that shop” I’ll smile.
The nightmare done, I’ll go with them
And no more years in exile live.

In that same place I’ll wake at last
With all my loss and pain redeemed.
My pretty wife, my lovely sons,
The precious house my Daddy loved.
My health, my hope, my job, my world,
Returned to me as they should be.

And so I walked along that street,
The sun and shadows followed too.
Cresting the rise, she was not there
And no brave sons came seeking me.
Five years of loss and pain were real,
To turn and with the shadows take.

I lost my world that day and cried,
Only the shadows knew my pain.
I did not tell about it then,
Nor shall I speak it ever now.
The loss is mine alone to bear
For those five years and many more.

A guest post by Henry Isaacs, author of Around The Red Rock

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