(in memoriam Ted Hughes, 1930-1998)
One world down and one bound in the tethers of pale conquerors.
Drizzle and fog conspire to hide the bridge from view,
the mountain winds howling out of the canyons,
shown on the primitive maps but now invisible.
Tossed stones alter nothing, the unmarked paths
ankle-deep with moss.
Tumble towards it or wait and see what comes,
bootless and torchless and stepping certain through,
from the other, the wordless side.
There is less known at the ending than was known
at the beginning. Sad agreement sings its piercing song
but explanation lies beyond the power of any who arrived,
moving their eyes along the terrace and the many-
windowed hall, fearful still of the madness they’d
passed through, the sorry things they’d done and
ridden beside, marveling in their helplessness.