Where Fliers Fell

There are hands within the skies

Fingering the wind,

Very many opening eyes

Swimming in the rapid air,

Everywhere

Cold mouths sucking at the sunflames.

On earth shadows thrown from shadows

Pass as did the wings.

We count no signs in the meadows

Where fliers fell, but we hear

Everywhere

Risen voices giving buried names.

GATES

I take quietly among the pacers

One thought only, that of the star;

I leave the sad men and none questions:

Have I no satchels, do I go far?

Late and early in the dim society,

Scarfed and hatted, busy in my mind,

Pacing with others, burying and unburying,

I found only what the sad men find.

Now as this unknown hour swings open

After the star and the prayer of night,

I go bare through the gate of the city