i W h oA r e y o
Who is
In the next
So loud to my
That I can hear the
Opening and the dark
Over the ghost and the dropped
Behind the wall thin as a wren’s bone ?
In the birth bloody room
To the burn and turn of
And the heart print of
Bo w s n o b a p t i s m Bu t d a r k a l o n e Blessing on The
Child.
Must lieS t i l l as s t o n
By the wren bone Wall hearing the
Of the mother
And the shadowed head of
Casting to-morrow like a
And the midwives of miracle
Until the turbulent new
Burns me his name and his
And the winged wall is
By his torrid
And the dark
From his loinT o b r i g h tL i g h t.
W h e nT h e w r e
Bone writhes
And the first
Furied by his
Swarms on the kingdom
Of the dazzler of
And the splashed mothering
Who bore him with a bonfire
His mouth and rocked him like a stormI shall run lost in
Terror and shining
The once hooded roomC r y i n g i n v a i nI n the c a u l d r o nO f h i sK i s s I nT h e s p i nO f t h e s u nI n t h e s p u m i n
Cyclone of his
For I was lost who
Crying at the man drenched
In the first fury of his streamA n d t h e l i g h t n i n g s o f a d o r a t i o
Back to black silence melt and
For I was lost who have
To dumbfounding
And the finding
And the high
Of his
Blinds myC r y.
T h e r
Crouched bareI n t h e s h r i n eO f h i s b l a z i n gB r e a s t I s h a l l w a k e
To the judge blown
Of the uncaged sea
The cloud climb of the exhaling
And the bidden dust
With his flame in every grain.
O spiral of
From the vultured
Of the
Of man
The
And T h eB o r n s e
Praised the sunT h e fi n d i n g o n eA n d u p r i g h t A d a mS a n g u p o n o r i g i n !
O the wings of the children!
The woundward flight of the
Young from the canyons of oblivion!
The sky stride of the always
In battle! the
Of saints to their vision!
The world winding home!
And the whole painF l o w s o p e nA n d ID i e . ii In the name of the lost who glory
The swinish plains of carrionU n d e r t h e b u r i a l s o n
Of the birds of
Heavy with the
And the green dustA n d b e a r i n
The ghostF r o
The groundL i k e p o l l e
On the black
And the beak of slimeI pray though I
Not wholly to that
Brethren for joy has moved
The inmost marrow of my heart bone That he who learns now the sun and
Of his mother’s milk may
Before the lips blaze and
To the birth bloody
Behind the wall’s
Bone and be
And the wombT h a t b o r eF o rA l l m e nT h e a d o r e dI n f a n t l i g h t o
The dazzling
Yawn to his upcoming.
In the name of the
Lost on the unchristened
In the centre of dark I pray him That he let the dead lie though they
For his briared hands to hoist
To the shrine of his world’s
And the blood drop's gardenE n d u r e t h e s t o n
Blind host to sleepI n t h e d a r kA n d d e e pR o c kA w a k
No heart
But let it
On the mountain crownU n b i d d e n b y t h e s u
And the beating dust be
Down to the river rooting plainU n d e r t h e n i g h t f o r e v e r f a l l i n g.
Forever falling night is a
Star and country to the
Of sleepers whose tongue I tollT o m o u r n h i s d e l u g i n
Light through sea and
And we have comeT o k n o w a l lP l a c e sW a y sM a z e sP a s s a g e
Quarters and gravesO f t h e e n d l e s s f a l l.
N o w c o m m o n l a z a r u
Of the charting sleepers praysN e v e r t o a w a k e a n d a r i s
For the country of death is the heart’s size And the star of the lost the shape of the eyes.
In the name of the
In the name of the unbornA n d t h e u n d e s i r e r s Of midwiving
Hands or instrumentsO in the
Of no
Now orN oO n e t oB e I p r a
May the
Sun spin a grave
And the colour of
Stream upon his martyrdomI n t h e i n t e r p r e t e d e v e n i n
And the known dark of the earth amen.
I turn the corner of prayer and burnI n a b l e s s i n g o f t h e s u d d e
Sun. In the name of the damnedI would turn back and
To the hidden
But the loud
Christens downT h e s k y.
Am found.
O l e t h i
Scald me and
Me in his world’s wound.
His lightening answers
Cry. My voice burns in his hand.
Now I am lost in the
One. The sun roars at the prayer’s end.
November 1944
