This is the year the old ones, <br />the old great ones <br />leave us alone on the road. <br /> <br />The road leads to the sea. <br />We have the words in our pockets, <br />obscure directions. The old ones <br /> <br />have taken away the light of their presence, <br />we see it moving away over a hill <br />off to one side. <br /> <br />They are not dying, <br />they are withdrawn <br />into a painful privacy <br /> <br />learning to live without words. <br />E. P. "It looks like dying"-Williams: "I can't <br />describe to you what has been <br /> <br />happening to me"- <br />H. D. "unable to speak." <br />The darkness <br /> <br />twists itself in the wind, the stars <br />are small, the horizon <br />ringed with confused urban light-haze. <br /> <br />They have told us <br />the road leads to the sea, <br />and given <br /> <br />the language into our hands. <br />We hear <br />our footsteps each time a truck <br /> <br />has dazzled past us and gone <br />leaving us new silence. <br />Ine can't reach <br /> <br />the sea on this endless <br />road to the sea unless <br />one turns aside at the end, it seems, <br /> <br />follows <br />the owl that silently glides above it <br />aslant, back and forth, <br /> <br />and away into deep woods. <br /> <br />But for usthe road <br />unfurls itself, we count the <br />words in our pockets, we wonder <br /> <br />how it will be without them, we don't <br />stop walking, we know <br />there is far to go, sometimes <br /> <br />we think the night wind carries <br />a smell of the sea...<br /><br />Denise Levertov<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/september-1961/
