Shape and Motion Two

by Martin Carter

I walk slowly in the wind
watching myself in things I did not make:
in jumping shadows and in limping cripples
dust on the earth and houses tight with
sickness
deep constant pain, the dream without the
sleep.

I walk slowly in the wind
hearing myself in the loneliness of a child
in woman's grief which is not understood
in coughing dogs when midnight lingers
long
on stones, on streets and then on echoing
stars,
that burn all night and suddenly go out.

I walk slowly in the wind
knowing myself in every moving thing
in years and days and words that mean so
much
strong hands that shake, long roads that
walk and deeds that do themselves.
And all this world and all these lives to live.

I walk slowly in the wind
remembenng scorn and naked men in darkness
and huts of iron rivetted to earth

cold huts of iron stand upon this earth
like rusting prisons.
Each wall is marked and each wide roof is
spread
like some dark wing
casting a shadow or a living curse.

I walk slowly in the wind
to lifted sunset red and gold and dim
a long brown river slanting to an ocean
a fishing boat, a man who cannot drown.

I walk slowly in the wind.
And birds are swift, the sky is blue like silk.

From the big sweeping ocean of water
an iron ship rusted and brown anchors
itself.
And the long river runs like a snake
silent and smooth.

I walk slowly in the wind.
I hear my footsteps echoing down the tide
echoing like a wave on the sand or a wing
on the wind
echoing echoing
a voice in the soul, a laugh in the funny
silence.
I walk slowly in the wind.
I walk because I cannot crawl or fly.

Copyright © Martin Carter
Poems of Succession by Martin Carter

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