Laura(RIDING) JACKSON (1901–1991)
The Wind Suffers
T h e wind suffers of blowing,
The sea suffers of water,
And fire suffers of burning,
And I of a living name.
As stone suffers of stoniness,
As light of its shiningness,
As birds of their wingedness,
So I of my whoness.
And what the cure of all this
What the not and not suffering
W h a t the better and later of this
W h a t the more me of me
How for the pain-world to be
More world and no pain
How for the old rain to fall
More wet and more dry
How for the wilful blood to run
More salt-red and sweet-white
And how for me in my actualness
To more shriek and more smile
By no other miracles,
By the same knowing poison,
By an improved anguish,
By my f u r t h e r dying.