The man splitting wood in the daybreak
looks strong, as though, if one weakened,
one could turn to him and he would help.

Gus Newland was strong. When he split wood
he struck hard, flashing the bright steel
through air of daybreak so fast rock maple
leapt apart - as they think marriages will
in countries about to institute divorce -
and even willow, which though stacked
to dry a full year, on separating
actually weeps - totem wood, therefore,
to the married-until-death - miseried asunder
with many small lip-smacking gasp-noises.

But Gus is dead. We could turn to our fathers,
but they protect us only through the unperplexed
looking-back of the numerals cut into their headstones.
Or to our mothers, whose love, so devastated,
can't, even in Spring, break through the hard earth.
Our spouses weaken at the same rate we do.
We have to hold our children up to lean on them.
Everyone who could help goes or hasn't arrived.
What about the man splitting wood in the daybreak,
who looked so strong? That was years ago. That was me.

– Galway Kinnell

Posted by David Fleck at 24 February 2006 08:36 PM