Poetry by David Filer

Dedicated to The Imani Project

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She won’t remember when she did it first:

Up on her own two feet, that sudden burst

Of speed and freedom, the length of the hall.

And then her mother’s arms to break her fall.


February 24, 2011


...and Talking

she stands

(that’s the other poem)

ready to throw her pale green

plastic ball


her eyes find

ours and we are watching


what she says then

slips in between all

the languages that we know


but we reach out

our hands and catch

her every word


April 22, 2011


For Hahna


—David Filer