We crossed over deserts, meadows, mountains,
travelled by rivers and seas, Arctics and Antarctics,
planted vines, bridges and ports, raised sheep and sons.
We built churches, cathedrals, palaces and poor hovels.
We lit fire into dark nights and hope into sore souls,
but also have made mad things we prefer never to remember.
We threw roads and rails, telegraphs, cities, skyscrapers,
yet an audacious tower, at Babel, when, our history tells,
You promptly restrained us.
Your sons became grandsons, great-grandsons, at last, us,
adoptive sons who every day attempt remember
what was like one face that has been said
we are patterned to.
Edilson Afonso Ferreira is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese, in order to reach more people. Has been published in four printed British Anthologies, online or printed venues like Cyclamens and Swords, Right Hand Pointing, Boston Poetry Magazine, West Ward Quarterly, TWJ Magazine, The Lake, The Stare’s Net, The Provo Canyon, Amomancies, Snapdragon, The Gambler and some others. Short listed in four American Poetry Contests, lives in a small town with wife, three sons and a granddaughter and began writing after retirement as a Bank Manager. See more of his poetry in www.edilsonmeloferreira.wordpress.com.