Nos Da
Long ago and far away,
after baths, wrapped in flannel
we knelt bedside, folded hands.
“Now I Lay Me,” “Our Father”
recited by rote without
understanding. Then, being
Welsh, we sang our final prayer
the one our Grandma Lewis
taught us, “safe in loving arms.”
Our last words each night–nos da–
good night in the mother tongue
our ancestors gave up when
they landed on this free shore.
2 thoughts on "Nos Da"
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“gave up” and “free shore” bittersweet
I agree, your last lines are poignant. Beautiful poem!