A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
As I walk patiently through life
poems follow close –
blind, dumb, agile, my own shadow;
the mind’s dark overflow, the spill of vein
we thought red once but know now, no.
The poem called death
is unwritten yet. Some day will show
the violent last line,
the shadow rise,
a bird of omen
snatch me for its ghost.
And a hand somewhere, purposeful as God’s
close like two eyes, this book.
Copyright 2009 Daniel Berrigan. To read more selections from Daniel Berrigan’s books, journals, poems, and homilies, see Daniel Berrigan: Essential Writings.
Daniel Berrigan 1921-2016