Incantation

 Illumination through the window,
Casting deeper shadows in the corners,
Touches everything, but cleanses nothing.

Across the time, across impassioned years,
Melting into familiarity,
Your face – now shining through the hidden tears –
Questions without motive.  I can see
The dawning of a thousand doubtful days
Reflected in the hollows of your eyes.
Doubting my very thoughts, I cannot say
What might your grief, in future, circumscribe,
Granting you solace by the grace of time.

Stop the tears from rising in my eyes,
On recognition of your hidden grief.

Stop the quick extrapolation
On comprehension of the motive.

Stop the endless sea of voices,
Murmuring the sorrows of the ages.

Stop stop stop stop stop stop

 Stop,

The blinding light that casts the shadow,
The shadow casting-out illusion,
The dry wind from the barren hills,
Frowning over the sins of the wetlands,
Carrying inescapable vision.

I heard the sun sigh this morning,
Weary of those in his dependency.
And the moon sang the antistrophe,
Having no pity for the stronger light.

I heard the ocean drown her roaring
In tears for the millions killed on her beaches,
And the rivers, laughing, sang a counterpoint,
Lacking her depth of understanding.

At the moment of sober vision,
I retreat from the passion in your voice,
Wishing to preserve the illusion.
Rescind the inescapable vision,
And ease the ache of life, returning,
At an age beyond forgiveness.

1983