Your letters burn with fragile care;
They gently curl inside the blaze.
The edges clasp in vain to spare
Your name from all-reaching fire's ways.
I was the paper, you were the ink -
Your lovely markings trace me still.
You will never fade in death. I think
I'm your unbroken living will.
With each day since the unreal last,
The tightly woven mesh of lives
Stretches taut - like sail to mast -
And splits the waves like men and wives.
I will swallow down the letters
And take them, burned, into my soul.
Then open shores, proclaim me a debtor!
I will not pause to pay your toll.
You are the loving, hated home
On whose sand all lone waves must break.
I would be Venus in the foam
Before I sigh for your pitiless sake.