II. Hepzibah
Hepzibah speaks in silence
Thank god writing
is done with the hand, the wrist, the fingers, the forearm
Ever since I lost
my head
I can’t speak in the old way.
My father was more measured—he
belonged in his world; prophecy
his office. He was not one of the wild ones
but even he was burned
by glowing coal, relentless Sanctus
ringing his skull
being-in-the-presence no man
is supposed to survive
Thank God then
as Eowyn said on the battlefield
I am no man.