Friday, February 17, 2023

from "Separation"

Tighter and tighter wringing my hands
Till they be riven—
Between us are not the miles of earth
But the rivers of heaven,
Of separation, the azure lands
Where my friend is forever
The highway dashes
In silvery harness;
My hands are not wrung now
But open, reaching
Like the ash tree climbing
After a flight of cranes.
To fly like the cranes and not look back!
Would be mine, and in death’s country
In costly dress
I would arrive, to your fleet feathers
A last buttress
In the airy losses of space.

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