“I put you away.... Not for myself. I must travel. It is my mission to travel from College to College. I must be away much from my home, bringing where I can to my brothers the Word ... the Word of our Lord who puts you away. I put you away ... for the sake of my child.”
“Whom you have never seen!”
THREE
White Sky
FANNY DIRK Luve stood on the Bridge where she could see the river up and down.
—I know what I am going to do. I know. Not die. Not going to see—What can I—? Since she knew, “Why! Why!” she said aloud.
She searched the world trying to find the anguish—I am not going to die!... of what she was to do.—Why not? But she knew that.... Not die. Not see her child.... She saw the river.
The river came to her from trees. The city, a raised shadow near her eyes, pulled her eyelids down away from there beyond, where she lay once on her back. She lies on her back. Under: grass, roots thrusting in erection, spilling in bud. Over: he.... From these trees came the river ... from this past ... flowing like the dimension that was time upon her standing on the Bridge. Time and the river were one. It swept upon her from the past of trees, past of sweet love, thrust against her, surging resistless; it was going to overwhelm her. Where? Time and the river flung in a stroke eternally sure against her standing dry in anguish—love an edged steel—on the Bridge. She turned. It turned her. Time and the river sweeping from rootage and trees struck her now in the back. She saw where it flowed.