For the Green Rider
In memory of Vasko Popa
I
Who will lead out the plough of dawn
To clear our soil of thistle and thorn
Who will harness the cart of day
To drag our nightmares’ marks away
Who will command the sun’s chariot
To divide what is from what is not
Who’ll drive us onward a little higher
If not quite as high as our hearts’ desire
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
II
Who will break up our earth with a spade
Break up all the blunders we’ve ever made
Loosen stones weeds scrub with his fork
Pick out our failures from clay loam and chalk
Split and divide with a long-handled hoe
The roots of our errors made long ago
Smooth and level our land with a rake
Prepared for the new ones we’re bound to make?
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
III
And who will sharpen our blunt ploughshare
Keep yoke and iron in good repair
Slice the stubborn clods from our field
Harrow its topsoil to loosen and yield
Grow healthy grain from reliable seed
Separate good crop from weed
Sift on the threshing floor next to our mill
Mistakes we won’t make from those we will?
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
IV
And who will hew down our trees with an axe
Build us new houses safe from attacks
Trim old trunks with hatchet and saw
Measure good planks for rafter and floor
Break up rocks with hammer and wedge
Chisel the lintel and window ledge
Raise again from rubble and ash
Homes no fires or bombs will trash?
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
V
And who will shift the last harvest the mines
Planted in paths between orchards and vines
Who’ll wash away from ditches and holes
Toxins that gnaw into bodies and souls
Who’ll flush long-lingering poisons out
Make waters safe for carp and trout
Who’ll kill the invisible Death that clings
To fragments of bombs in wells and springs?
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
VI
And where is the doctor trained or inclined
To cut out the cancers that rot the mind
Who by his science or by his arts
Can drain the venom from our hearts
Prescribe for grief in gut and belly
His cure of honey or royal jelly
And by clear vision or clear hindsight
Stitch us our centuries back on right?
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
VII
Harvests get gathered and unloaded
Borders shored up breached eroded
Bridges knocked down then rebuilt
Estuaries fill with silt
Towers tumble cities grow
Peace and war come go
What antidote or remedy
Cures or comes from history?
A rider went out with his hounds
Went out among the fields
He has saddled his horse Zelenko
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