15

Experience alone his mother,
Who in rain though sheltered,
Beholds a sun-drenched vista.

His certain song's unaltered
By plots and twisted chatter,
Of those who huddle in baths:

Soggy newsprint paper dolls
Changing with changeless headlines.
His tune isn't made to fit but measure:

Silent about what he doesn't know,
Singing aloud what he understands
He recognizes his brother's walk—

Signal fire from distant mountain. Says:
"Pay me when you can", meaning
Not to break the natural pride.

Silent his contempt for the nihilist,
Ringing his praise for the constant,
He gives his neighbour his petty reproach

And takes the full-blown victory
Of being unmoved, his eye directed
Before his feet by heart commanded

And until then, no inch, nor muscle
Twitches
Till he strides.


© Dan Goorevitch, 1998