by W. S. Merwin

by W. S. Merwin
     My friends without shields walk on the target
     It is late the windows are breaking
     My friends without shoes leave
     What they love
     Grief moves among them as a fire among
     Its bells
     My friends without clocks turn
     On the dial they turn
     They part
     My friends with names like gloves set out
     Bare handed as they have lived
     And nobody knows them
     It is they that lay the wreaths at the milestones it is their
     Cups that are found at the wells
     And are then chained up
     My friends without feet sit by the wall
     Nodding to the lame orchestra
     Brotherhood it says on the decorations
     My friend without eyes sits in the rain smiling
     With a nest of salt in his hand
     My friends without fathers or houses hear
     Doors opening in the darkness
     Whose halls announce
     Behold the smoke has come home
     My friends and I have in common
     The present a wax bell in a wax belfry
     This message telling of
     Metals this
     Hunger for the sake of hunger this owl in the heart
     And these hands one
     For asking one for applause
     My friends with nothing leave it behind
     In a box
     My friends without keys go out from the jails it is night
     They take the same road they miss
     Each other they invent the same banner in the dark
     They ask their way only of sentries too proud to breathe
     At dawn the stars on their flag will vanish
     The water will turn up their footprints and the day will rise
     Like a monument to my
     Friends the forgotten