Hurled to the ground
By unjust blows
Plunging him far ahead
In life,
Toward future years
When no one
Could make him bleed.
Like the small shrub
That draws succour from roots,
Clasping bruised branches
Against its resolute core,
He backed away mute
Into what he knew
And into his innocence.
Finally freed and filled
With sovereign joy,
He fled to the meadow
And reached the trembling wall
Of dry reeds.
He cajoled the mud
To rise up.
What was noblest
And most enduring
On earth
Seemed to adopt him,
As if to make amends.
And so it would start again.
He knew one day
He would hold his ground,
Attentive and standing tall
Among men —
More at risk,
More resistant.
With his teeth
He seizes life
Upon the knife of his youth.
With his lips today,
With his lips alone...
Briefly come,
Bloom of the slopes,
Lucifer’s star
Has reappeared.