Hold Like Owls

Gentle Corners of the Night

Gentle Corners of the Night Small bundle swaddled against your back, he hasn’t learned why we are afraid, why lonesome, here, can be worse than dying. For months without knowing, he was kept safe inside another life, held gentle into the night. One thing your father still does like a child is fly. But he is aware of the strings, wind aging under the kite.You cannot unlearn why we are afraid, but dream so often in the dark. All the stories children hear fill the places we’ll never see: gentle corners of the night. I tell him of cities left in sand; his fist, tight around my finger, holding what we have of day. He has not yet learned why we are afraid, why strings can never keep things safe. 21 ...