Too Late the Learning

- jan-u-wine

Something
it is
to watch this one.

something....
like

remembering

.

..

spring.


Spring.

No spring
in Dark Lands.

No spring
under the mountain's
hard horn.


I
could take him
there.

We
might hide
them
there.


He could learn.

O,  yes,
he
could learn
to be
quieter,
still.

He
could learn
to touch
with long,
pale fingers

and

see
with watered-down,
weary
eyes.

He could learn
the weight
of a whip
upon
skinless shoulders.

He could learn
to like
the frozen
slither
of things
not quite
dead
down
his throat.

Something

there is
about
this
one......


Beneath
the fallow eye
of the moon,
we
see
him:

too late.

Already,
it is
too late
for him
to learn.


He

Knows.


A word
we
have not
thought
in long ages

tears

at the fog
of our fear:

Sorry.

I
am
sorry

for him.

We

are
sorry
for us.