Elizabeth Jennings
No longer here the blaze that we'd engender
Out of Pure wrath. We pick at quarrels now
As fussy women stitch cotton, slow
Now to forget and too far to surrender.
The anger stops, apologies also.
And in this end of summer, weighted calm
(climate of mind, I mean) , we are apart
Further than ever when we wished most harm.
Indifference lays a cold hand on the heart;
We need the violence to keep us warm.
Have we then learnt at last how to untie
The bonds of birth, umbilical long cord,
So that we live quite unconnected by
The blood we share? What monstrous kind of sword
Can sever veins and still we do not die?
No comments:
Post a Comment