165 To Lara
Lying on the edge between the raw anxiety of waves
And the drying silence of sand -- you are a smooth white stone
Evened by the storms to the indifference of a sleeping strength,
Lightened by the sun to the want of nothing, to the lone
Evenings knowing no despair of waves in striving after mates,
No disintegration of self within the crumbs of sand,
Fear of no abyss, no passion of the heat, no freezing craze,
No imbalance, no expectation, longing -- no intent.
On the edge between the blinding light and the perturbing murk,
On the rim of sound, on the outskirts of the dry and wet
Paints -- you are the smooth white stone refusing to crash or to mourn,
Knowing only how to resist and, lasting, to remain.