THE FACE

Out of the smoke of men's wrath,

The red mist of anger,

Suddenly,

As a wraith of sleep,

A boy's face, white and tense,

Convulsed with terror and hate,

The lips trembling....

Then a red smear, falling....

I thrust aside the cloud, as it were tangible,

Blinded with a mist of blood.

The face cometh again

As a wraith of sleep:

A boy's face delicate and blonde,

The very mask of God,

Broken.