Winter 1958 • Vol. XX No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1958 |

The Parker River (To F. R. K.)

IIt must have been a profound and a serene communionWhen nearing dawn, still in pyjamas, to walk awayThe body of this world, and give the body of yoursTo the salt and running waters by the sea. I gave my own son his first and baby dowseIn the Parker River: he cried with pain and joy together,Knowing not that to go back to the seaIs the great symbol of original mystery.   II Is it right to take your lifeOr better to let life take it?Is it superiority of manWhen things have come to such a passAs his, the whole truth none else knowing,To make a final affirmationIn a final, great negation?Is it an intellectual graceSo to do, and, Oh far deeper,Is it a spiritual unityKnown once and forever knownBetween the doer and the Creator?Or is it a cold, implacable knowledgeOf the lessening river in the blood,A last defeat before a maskLife always wears and never loses,Inscrutable in its designs?As who would say, I am the lost,Forever lost, I am nothing now,Of nothing, neither bad nor

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