Jew #3
I know somewhere before I die I must see you again
And take your hands in mine, and let you touch my lips
With joy. Sometimes in wild torrents, sometimes in drips
Memory comes here naked in the broken light of pain
Sometimes I say serai, serai; sometimes I blame me
I lost it all on a pole of innocence, upon a bloodless tree
But always still a fawn illusive in this forest stalks me
The stain of love upon my heart gives me high visibility
I cannot outrun, I cannot hide
The fawn is a brash, young bride
And up and down the hot hill side
Its horn is pointed at my pride.
Go dream, go away, go O coming time of coming sorrow
O lonely time when forever must leave before the other
One of us, hopeless in a gray and so lonely old tomorrow
To go, to go is to forget forever, yet I would not rather
Until somewhere before I die I am made glad to see again
The fawn suddenly still, trembling in the hot tropic rain
And the stag long wounded is delivered from its gray pain
And the tide and the sands of the beach flow over us again.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2010
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