ISSN 1758-6488
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Wires Poetry |
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Lyric 6
At the very hour my dearest brother
passed beyond the last elm
( with a formal wave of the hand )
my tears were larger than my eyes.
In the hour when my dearest friend
sailed round the last Cape
(my whole being sighed : Come back!)
and the wave of my hand stretched
after him--- from my shoulders---
my lips—followed--entreating
but my speech lost all sound,
my hands lost their fingers.
This is the hour when we approach
with gifts--- nobler than the Tsars.
The hour when I come down the mountain.
And the mountain understands.
Wishes have gathered in a circle.
Destinies have shifted. Don’t complain!
In this hour, hands are invisible.
And souls begin to see.
In the hour when my dear guest
left me--- Look , look at us !
Our tears were larger than human
eyes ----and wider than the Atlantic.
