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For My Grandfather

 

sand fibres

 

Roberto Weinberg

 

 

Umasi_La

 

Walking up this pure glacier

since before sunrise,

the high altitude thin and crisp cold air,

the towering peaks in first morning light.

I climb and climb,

and here my thoughts turn to you.

 

Looking down on a world of glittering white

cut by harsh peaks of contorted, long-suffering rocks

I am reminded of your joy of being here.

Maria Island, Tasmania
From this mountain I think of the young me,

In an intricate maze of paths,

using my rough wisdom

to chose my future.

 

In an ocean of possible directions,

you were the gentle breeze

that propelled my little boat in the direction

that would bring me here,

to merge with splendour,

to assimilate and learn from nature,

to transform, create and teach.

Mimosa Rocks
You taught me

to lay my working table, my papers and books

in the middle of my life.

To look everywhere for answers,

to collect, investigate,

and marvel.

Sierra de Quilmes, Argentina
Today I turn every rock,

in every corner of the world,

looking for new truths,

to complete my world, correct its imperfections.

 

Looking perhaps for what you knew.

Shyok valley, Tibetan Plateau
I remember you used to say

"Take pictures my son,

You travel, take pictures! Record the world."

No, no, I thought, I need not own,

I need to experience, not possess.

Young words.

Now I see,

We were both right, me, from my youth,

you, from the peak of ages.

Mimosa Rocks
Your home,

every part, every object,

book, statue, furniture, painting:

the total much more than its parts.

 

Your stories, telling of fading scenes.

Your actions,

telling of dying ways.

Ireland coast
In its harmony,

a life rich beyond comprehension.

 

A waterfall,

where past flows into future.

 

You showed me how to feel history,

to become history.

You were the link between past and future,

in this ever-connecting flow.

Australian outback
Your ashes, dispersed in time's maelstrom.

I knew you had to go,

I knew I had to let you go.

Like I know one day I will have to go.

 

Your work,

carefully collected,

expressfully arranged,

meaningful and coherent.

Glorious patterns of colour and sense,

all gone!

 

Blown away without ceremony.

A firm statement of impermanence

creation and renewal.

Ice in Scotland
From this mountain I wonder

who would I be without your love,

your love of books, photos, paintings,

your love of learning and teaching,

your love of nature, and travelling.

your gentle breeze blowing through my youth.

Affirming my present.

Who would I be without your love,

your love for all of us that shared your life.

Who would I be without you

my Vovo Gilberto.

 

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