Who knows if suffering's inquiry leads you anywhere
but back to suffering? Yes, there are no rainbows
shining at the end of the runway,
but the craving to fall asleep
before the train arrives at the station
is an idea of grace, temporary, essential.
The tracks were ripped out years ago
by lads who knew more about suffering
than we ever will. No end to it.
And yet, you're right Michelle, the children
still wave here, though hardly a soul over forty,
and those who remember can't quite recall
the historic meaning of their lives, or
how their names are spelt: just
to have come this far, along the road,
just this sack of green leaves, this hammock in the trees.