Friendship, when a friend meant a helping sword, <br />Faithfulness, when power and life were its fruits, hatred, when the hated <br />Held steel at your throat or had killed your children, were more than metaphors. <br />Life and the world were as bright as knives. <br /> <br />But now, if I should recall my ruins <br />From the grass-roots and build my body again in the heavy grave, <br />Twist myself naked up through the earth like a strong white worm, <br />Tip the great stone, gulp the white air, <br /> <br />And live once more after long ages <br />In the change of the world: I should find the old human affections hollowed. <br />Should I need a friend? No one will really stab me from behind, <br />The people in the land of the living walk weaponless. <br /> <br />Should I hate an enemy? The evil-doers <br />Are pitiable now. Or to whom be faithful? Of whom seek faith? <br />Who has eaten of the victor's feast and shared the fugitive silence <br />Of beaten men on the mountain: suffer <br /> <br />Resurrection to join this midge-dance <br />Of gutted and multiplied echoes of life in the latter sun? <br />Dead man, be quiet. A fool of a merchant, who'd sell good earth <br />And grass again to make modern flesh.<br /><br />Robinson Jeffers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-resurrection/
