My daughter

A man can be forced to leave to be confined where the sun has set, where the mountains are black, where the birds are silent. But the heart stays behind in a dark garden in Kyiv. A dark field falls below the garden, then a dark grove, then mountains. A star rises in the blue sky, and dawn blesses my daughter, she with the brown eyes. Maybe I’ve died; maybe I’m in a coma. Maybe she’s forgotten about me. Maybe everyone has forgotten.