And in an open bay before that sea
Upwards of 30,000 men
Asleep like spoons among their fatal ships.
Now look along the moonlit beach, and note
A naked man, face wet with tears,
Run with what seems to break the speed of light
Across the dry, then damp, then sand invisible
Beneath inch-high waves that slide
Over each other’s luminescent panes;
Then kneel among those panes, beggar his arms, and pray:
‘Out of humiliation, Source, I cry,
Source, hear my voice, and with your presence
Bless my supplication.’
The sea as quiet as light.
His voice flows on:
“
- Christopher Logue