This land is leprous with the huts of men;
Their radishes are crisp and strong but now
this soil is wounded. It is the sea that’s never wounded
since it mends like Naaman’s flesh behind our wind-plow.
Our fathers told the truth:
“Ignore the images, my son:
they’re barnacles of spirit
holding you in harbor till the wind is fair.
The wind is never fair.”
Our fathers told the truth:
“Despise no images, my son:
though banshee leads you to the smoky edge of Doom
(the Dragon liveth here, and Monsters of the Deep),
the reason for your journey
is to see the dragon’s keep.”
TimothyOne 