The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 36

Jan De Wilde
(from) VOX

No, no, no. Not because I can’t –I can- but I won’t. Not now – not ever with
or without its amen, amen.
Even when asked – she pleaded for this with the smell of weeds and roses
about her. No, no, and no again, now and always, for it will always be
demanded of me but I will not give it.
Negation as affirmation – this is my weapon in my battles and wars though
there is but one war I’m engaged in. Old warriors I am come amongst you to
be what I must and will be – your warrior-strength to the st rength of my
hand nor forgetting the mind’s fortitude and aptitude for matters yet
unfinished or begun.
And the sea before me, the sea behind me, the sea on my right side, the sea
on my left side. The mothering surf. From here across it yet let not your
silence come upon me but wave after wave of utterance.
She also pleaded for utterance but I would not make it.
These shabby rags – inheritance and a broken pot whereas I in the cauldron
will stir…
As a foretime so be it hereafter. And I will prove myself thrilling to the wind.
Other lands, other tongues. Tongues of fire to cast the earth in tongues of
fire. In exile to be. From this place tonight. From the dark and dank wood.
No patria.
Yet a mind held aloft like a signalman with a lantern (he who holds up the
light is the light)
Yet I see them gathered who are gathered against me. How brightly my eyes
flash against them. How even my footprints will be spoken of. How my
triumphs will burn the wind! Even the sunlight will be jealous as I outshine