A ship passed to sea
in sunlight on cloudless water
though ruffled sea-foam trailed behind,
and by chance I saw it before it was no more
forevermore gone to the open sea
away from me
who made it be
by observing it
pass through the sea.


© E. C. Vadnais

Young girls, there were two, in boots, pink and blue,
     standing near the cold, angry sea,
Shouting over the wind,
     giggling at the sea and the world of us,
     and dreaming of life to come.
And for all that surrounded them
     they were all that was good and precious and worthy
     to be held as shining.
And though we will fail them and they us
     we should not forget them, diminish them
     for they were all we will ever be on that day
When the cold, green Atlantic raged before their play.

© E. C. Vadnais

A poison is in the land
without antidote
we wait the effect.
May God bless America
in this her poisonous state.

Because your life is short
I thought you should know
about lawn bowling and polite clapping
by women in summer dresses and white gloves
and men in white shirts with club ties
and black trousers who we called the other
and who stood on utter green grass that day
and played the game with dignity
in summer’s late perfect light,
and all was well,
all was very well
the day before we went to war
and killed them all.
I thought you should know
because your life is so short.

At a window that looked to the edge of the sea,
within the home that sheltered her,
she perhaps saw me when I was callous
and need not care for her or the land or the sea.
Now I think I will soon join her
and perhaps then have time to speak to her
of the good earth and cleansing sea
and explain what she has finally come to mean to me.

Yet if there was a god I would need not explain.
If there was a god, protection of her would have sprung
for in goodness she was supreme.
Tell me why was her love for her god not rewarded?
Why was she left to suffer? Leave me.
Let me rage, fill the air curse to curse
for what of this god, this god whose back was turned
what do I owe him save my fury in equal measure to her love.

Look there. Her grave. Pitiful thing.
Who would know that the best of our lot lies below.
Build here a monument colossal in scope and size,
raise it to goodness, patience and forgiving love.
Hold. It does no good. Be deaf to a fool.
Surely I knew by having her her god was also there.
Then I cease here for my curse echoes to her.
Ah, but it is not fair — I live, she does not.



© 2016

Since boyhood came the sound.

At eight in a field of snow
Under a sky blue and high
I heard the sound.

At sixteen after love’s embrace
On sheets stiff and white
I heard the sound.

At twenty-two in a place green and lush
Under skies filled with war
Above all I heard the sound.

At thirty-two in early morning light
As I comforted my infant son
I heard the sound.

The sound of all the world trying to fall in love.


© 2016

You expect it to happen.
Oh, how much you want it to happen.

But because you are not blessed
It will not happen to you.

It will happen to him.
And all the good in it will flow to him.

Without plan, without intention, without effort
He will gain at your loss.

So listen: Dance with the dream
For it holds everything you gave up for him.