Friday, February 16, 2007
Ran Across This This Morning
...by Howard Nemerov
A Song of Degrees
Though the road lead nowhere
I have followed the road
In its blind turnings, its descents
And the long levels where the emptiness ahead
Is inescapably seen.
I have cried for justice, I have cried
For mercy, now I desire neither.
A man may grow strong in his wandering,
His foot strong as a wheel
Turning the endless road.
Foot and hand hardened to horn,
Nose but a hook of bone, and eyes
Not liquid now but stone--I
To myself violent, fiercely exult
In Zion everywhere.