Of all the silences, of all the great waves
raging in like a bitter season across the sands,
you will remember not a one.
Of all you will have suffered, and given,
you will remember only the wind
rising fiber by fiber from the reefs,
blind and defiant.
You will see yourself as you were
before you existed, as from a distance,
without gesture or persistence,
lost amidst the batter of current and swell
chiselled out of the darkness and the salt
like a labored pulse, drawn out,
Between harbors there are spaces
more desolate and empty than between hands
trembling before a moment of touching.
Look for me here, then,
in the silence between two waves breaking,
in the shifting rent by the shore.
Give me your wrath and your silence,
give me your hunger and your love.