3.26.2013

The Song on the Bridge Wall

it is addressed thusly:
A vision.
it reads:
Do we wait, who watch mountains
Passing in the window of a car
Who see the snow fall and melt
Breathe cold as the sun must breathe
In the depths of cold Heaven
Patiently, as the rivers are patient
Carving deep paths across
The tired face of the land;
Frozen and yet, as live as rivulets
That push everything off the hills;
Watching, as the old towns
Who seem all too antique
All too antique for life as we think
Wink at us travelers, subtle
As a colored curtain in a window
Single in a well worn avenue;
As gray as the slate of roofs
That never die but still leak
Did we find in her any proofs
Of our central and certain conceit
Did we find her in the wrong
On the wrong side of history?
Do we wait for the denouement
Do we search for her gestalt
In the tea leaves of old pavement
In the bones of parched boughs
Across the board of her industry
Grown old for our novelties?
Did we think we had seen it
The climax and now resolution
The action falls awaits conclusion
But the snow moves in line
Recoloring the ancient hills
And the old city breathes deep
Into the locked frozen river
And the bridges moan in the cold day
Under the sun in deep Heaven
While we were waiting
While anticipation gnawed us old
And we pined away for hope
We wonder if anyone was told
What was written on the wall
For we have forgotten
What our story is at all.

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