they finally laid him to rest
the little man without a kingdom or slaves
he lived in a house without mirrors or theories or velour
which is why from a distance
he always looked green like a hymn
when he opened his mouth
it was to share with us the solid breeze
that always came to sleep in his heart

though he's now dead & buried
he's still there in the ancient walls of my house
though he was one-eyed like all of us
everything he touched attained the wistful eternity
of his hungers & his face
that returns to me at night

when they finally laid him to rest
earth gladly accepted him
the shrubs & the thistle sang him in
in their frail voices that remind me of storms
while the men of religion went about their business
banking aversions & separations

today we weep into the ash & dust
tomorrow God will send us children & harvests
& that man, who was broken like the earth
& yet had the odour of a mountain
will return with those who return
upright, contrite & his clay warmer.