Let the waves crash where they will.
Let our credits fill the space
Where the sun once rose.
Let the dust shake Off
Of our homecoming feet
And dance in the easterly wind,
The warm breath from before the world
Caught in the spokes of angel's chariots
That came, come, and wait in the cloudy
Tide to cover the earth again. It's just enough
Of a hand to hold, just enough
Of a meeting of eyes, just enough
Of a smile to cling to hope
Like the coming of spring,
Gathering our breath into baskets
For the final plunge, the atrophy
Of icy water taking hold and numbing
Our wounds till they become scars.
Then the boughs which bear our burdens
Slip from their pale winter garments
Into beautiful nakedness.