Nicole Page-Smith, 2013
O wind blowing
O wind blowing from the grave of stars
Wind of dissolution, wind of creation
O breath life-instinct from the lips of God
I am overwhelmed by a truth clear as water
A truth eternal as life is eternal.
Under the sodden pines I have lain and listened
To the voice of quiet death speaking from air and branches
Inexpressibly mournful, inexpressibly still
Wind-music, sea-music.
I looked to my feet and among the rotted needles
Saw hyacinths bloom.
By the river I stood and saw the sunbeaten waves
Run landward bent by the current. Tremulous fish
Move living among the eddies of death
Death only to those who see death in the scarab
Death in the living snow.
No barren cycle is this
No grave of stars forever more lifeless
Rather a truth living, incomprehensible
Clear with the clearness and opaqueness of water.
1943-1944
by
James K. Baxter
