My Mother’s Dead Father

Leonydes Matis 

His native language

Romanian 

Garlic breath 

Which spoke above me

I didn’t understand 

I was told you were wise

That God spoke to you

You wrote letters of prophecy 

I write letters of feelings 

What did you say to me 

All those years ago

When you and her were alone 

In that apartment 

With all the other old people

We visited you every other day

What did you say when 

You spoke 

Was it another prophecy 

Or happy to see your first 

granddaughter 

All grown up 

I wish I could remember your words 

I understand your native tongue 

Years too late

Why did you always speak

To me, away from everybody

So my mom couldn’t hear  

What the Lord had planned 

For me

Send down a letter from Heaven 

Created within the rustling leaves

Or better yet

Write it with the 

Clouds 

Like a plane does for a proposal 

You can even write it in 

Romanian