Omer Tarin

  Once before I've heard this anguished cry   A long-drawn note of many-lettered woe, The great open beak straining against the roar of raging surf;   Head, thrown back, taut against the distant sails   Anger flickering in eyes flecked with amber, rolling in lonely knowledge, this bond servant of the sea, tied by its giant wingspan to the torturous flight of sainthood   Martyred in its terrible existence murdered by the yellow fog of banality   Victim to the squalor of urban beachfronts , snuffed out in the face of its own metaphor screaming curses unto heaven, proud to the very last;   ''Once before'', I said, ''I've heard this cry''.                                -----  ---------- ----------- ----------  from Burnt Offerings 1996  ...

  when in summer brittle leaves fall softly to the ground they are no less beautiful;   when sunlight plays upon the laughing currents of the joyful breeze life laughs with them;   when alone in this idyllic meadow I beg for the comfort of dear ones, solitude is my sole companion;   when all else is done, and night's fluttering veil covers the blue-creased sky, the birds fly home.  ---- ------ ------- ------------ --------------- * From Burnt Offerings 1996