I am a fool
and I know why:
I was born under
a bronze, bronze sky.
A mewling bird
fell from its nest
to die within
my mothers’ breast.
A warring girl
with bronze, bronze hair
called to the wind
but none was there;
spoke to the grave
with no reply
then something gave
in her bronze, bronze eye.
O come with me
who on the earth
creep haltingly
twixt death and birth.
O come with me
all you who long
for more to be
than fair and strong.
And you who crave
for other worlds
beyond this world
and every world:
let us mourn sore
what death has sown
and stand up more
than men have known.
