When I had tired of the wars around me
Longing for forgetfulness, the softness of
arms and breasts,
I could not close my ears to the thunder of
the living.
But tonight history has ceased to cry out
within me.
My white flag of truce is hoisted, my arms
are thrown to the ground,
My back is turned to the cannon and here I
surrender.
The hunger of generations is nothing now?
Nothing.
The brotherhood of heroes? The knowledge of
vast constellations?
I have rejected my vision and renounced
prophecy.
Love is the final quality, love and not
courage.
Not the love of the Gentiles, the crucified
love of disciples,
But the love of my love; it has silenced a
thousand poems.
I have sought peace in war, serenity in
struggle, pity in hatred.
I shall search no longer, the lights are
turned down.
Only faintly, faintly, I still hear the
marching step of the unborn,
Feet, feet, moving, moving.
‑ DAVID MARTIN
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