The Pace of Waiting

The sunflowers grow tall
       in fields we don’t know,
leaning over the broken bodies

of men younger than the day
       of men wiser
than night.

Soldiers      inhaling
the light of sunset;
a reveille to the angels.

These men      chivalrous,
sanguine; anxious to make proud
their transfigured fathers.

Unaware, it would seem,
of the world’s way of forgetting
       and not forgiving.

These men . . . a man, dreaming
in black and blue. Wondering if the
blood, the pain, is a gift for his god.

Hoping invisible hands
will gather all his relevant pieces
       and let his hour be peaceful.

That those he loves most
will conquer this distance
       sit alongside him,
and carry him home.


(From the book Selected Poems 2004-2007)