Passover

You were the one who bore witness,
When St Brides lay down the mirror -
Wove a web of those immaculate skies.

Your life, was in fact a pose.
Dreyer's holy fool, two candles
At the window, when two suns

Could not have saved you -
Rolling through their bitching rays.
You were the dead of dawn -

Already there. A single lock of hair
On the bloodied headland; granite
Shock of rocks; seas foaming

Back from green Skoma.
Were bones your only token?
That leaden leap - was it true

To the weight of future days?
When, as you said, we may all
Pass without touching. As though

Your words had flown - a gull
From the stones themselves.