Retrospective

To Bessie Loos

Truly he loved the sun which descended crimson behind the hill,
The paths of the forest, the singing blackbird,
And the joy of green.

Earnest was his dwelling in the shadow of the tree
And his countenance pure.
God spoke a soft flame into his heart:
O man!

Silently his footstep found the city in the evening;
The dark lament of his mouth:
I want to become a horseman.

But bush and animal followed him,
House and the dusking garden of white humans
And his murderer sought him.

Spring and summer and beautiful the autumn
Of the righteous one, his quiet step
Past the dark rooms of dreamers.
At night he remained alone with his star;

Saw snow falling into bare branches
And in the dusking hallway the shadow of the murderer.
Silverly sank the head the unborn.