Evening Sorrow
Evening Sorrow Evening sorrow comes down on me, I sit As my father sat in the green springtime I am here and not here, the way he was, Each refugee is a fugitive, too The mind is a refuge full of danger I believe he knew and remained appalled At all he could not change, the wisps of smoke From what the fire had burned, the lost blue eyes We keep company in honeysuckle Scent and birdsong, tatter of drifting cloud, He was of so few words and his silence Had eloquence I treasure as my words come How to close, we are naked in ourselves And know no escape, ruthless though we try