Grandfather

Sometimes I fear the lyrics of a poet
that cut the throat, and break the heart
the paper and the writing on it
the shaking hand always on guard

Sometimes I loath the music of the angels
the truth that rings inside the head
with every note, the shape of longing changes
the strings burn colors, from blue to red

Sometimes I hide from paintings of an artist
closing my eyes from seeing world through his
not touching life, but watching it like martyrs
not being sure of what it is we miss

Sometimes I tear when listening to voices
that made me smile some time ago
the blinking memories of our choices
of yesterdays we haven't yet let go

it is the honesty that burns our hands
when touching sun, it's not the light we notice
running away to comfortable grey
when listening to melodies of stories

But know, I'll never turn away from what you've told me
And I would never dare look past your gaze
I am, sometimes, becoming more impatient
because in art, I'm always searching for your face.