At one moment a few old leaves come in
frightened
and lie down together and stop moving
the nights now go in threes
as in a time of danger
the flies
sleep like sentries on the darkened panes
some alien blessing
is on its way to us
some prayer ignored for centuries
is about to be granted to the prayerless
in this place
who were you
cold voice born in captivity
rising
last martyr of hope
last word of a language
last son
other half of grief
who were you
so that we may know why
when the streams
wake tomorrow and we are free
- W.S. Merwin
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