On the muddy shore of Anosy I sat down and wept.
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss form prayers to broken stone
I don't want much. Coming in from the rain, the rain dribbling from the thatch, the sound of the surf. The gentle bed. The porch where torches burn long into the night. The awaiting warmth.
Green hangs wet with bent leaves.
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience
Coming in from the rain. Looking for something to cling to.
The eyes are sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn than a fading star
Smile. Because
Life is very long
Sometimes it's just so long. Thank you, Thomas Stearns!

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