a poem from adam:
I have been thinking of you in England,
And how the others, here with me now,
Seem to patter on like an unwanted rain.
It is true, isn’t it, that the water is needed
By the fields, that without the weight
The world would turn to dust.
And the laws of the earth do not halt,
Even for the lonely among us—
So I turn my eyes from the Atlantic.
Bound by the same laws, the farmer,
Awake in his bed, listens to the lack of wind
Like one who has lost a lover.
In the famine grip of stillness
(That I have said is like death)
He prays for a miracle to rise,
For the gusts of wind to stir his soul
Like a window-rattling opera—
For the rain to quench his unsleeping heart.
Of course the farmer cannot command a storm.
But if life was only the slow acceptance
Of our own limitation, who could love?
Of course more than our prayers
Escape the chains of time and distance.
I am speaking of the Atlantic,
Of standing here on the Eastern shore
With your presence in my memory,
Like a rainbow after a storm.