MEMORIAL

If we do not lift quickly the dead bodies

from the beaches, the tide begins to put them down like a

disappointment carried beneath the clothing, or hidden in the intricate, folded greyness of the brain.

Now we can know again, even more plainly,

how quickly the world changes. The land, and life too, are interrupted by the inexorable fantasy of extreme violence

and the awful terror. The body, eager with its wants and its

rich, few years is dead now on the beaches.

The war came as a water rising, leaving us homeless.

The easy company of the dispossessed was a grave joy.

On the crest of waters, we invaded the distance.

Recession will find our shells far,—high up in mountains.

It will be explained how they came there. It will not be understood.