Mists (Six O’Clock)

Mists (Six O’Clock)

See, they return,1
The mists, the knees, and the silence—
The secret rhythm of the battered heart.
Shattered, yet unbroken.
Unchained at last.

See, they descend. Unsullied.
The mists and the anguish.
Can you hear them hissing?
Can you feel them slowly kissing the slopes…?
Clouds of a myriad tears—
And torn.

I can see them coming
Down the pilgrim road.
They are all here:
Mists and regrets,
Guile and bale,
Ashes and sackcloth—
All gathered in the agony of remembrance—
All loathing what was done
And rejoiced.

I see they return.
The mists, the tears, and the anguish—
All kneeling in your presence
All humble suppliants.

Relieve them Lethe!
Relieve them!
Mighty River of Silence,
Mighty Father of Mercy.

  1. Cfr. Ezra Pound. The Return. ↩︎

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