THE REFUGEES
After the burning nights and the barren speech,
after the dry wind through stony streets,
we found our little green where lilies were,
and knee-deep oxen stood watching us
triumphant under trees. For this was peace
as nature meant nature's peace to be,
with fruitful soil made ready by its need,
with instincts tamed in gentler ways than fear,
with freedom measured freely as the sky
measures breath. We lay there side by side
breathing kisses, feeling the wet and cool
of bodies grassed in loving, each a groove
within a groove, seeking counterpart,
with close-open-close, with light-in-dark
and waves lapping. We heard the overflow
of lake down buttressed dam and sluiced walls
making music in ditches, singing birth
to seed in spike, to trunk in root, one surge
alike in all. Then, happily, we chose
which way, and barefoot climbed the gold
to tip the rim of that day's widened
cup, before the darkness could descend
to cheat our purpose. Together, all of us swam,
caught in a shower of light that fell on hands
and hoofs, on flesh and hide—the rainbow now
a shore towards which we moved with one accord.
And the sun ceased fire and lowered its arms,
promising new terms for our tomorrow.