Joseph Mary Plunkett’s beautiful lilt in
“I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes,
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.” Etc.
is, itself, enough to make the poem exceptional. The words skip
over the page like the lightest feet. The lightness is as admirable here as in
the most polished dance.
The following poem has the same quality. To speak out the
words is to surf the wave; to feel, as close as one can, propulsion on a crest
of words.
A Wave of the Sea
I am a wave of the sea
And the foam of the wave
And the wind of the foam
And the wings of the wind.
My soul’s in the salt of the sea
In the weight of the wave
In the bubbles of foam
In the ways of the wind.
My gift is the depth of the sea
The strength of the wave
The lightness of foam
The speed of the wind.
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