He should have done more for her,
He should have pulled her back from the edge,
But he had to stay away from the edge himself.
Walking alone for a hundred miles, whispering French to herself
Because all of the horror in her life had transpired in English.
And she thought switching languages might save her.
He set out finally because
he feared he'd lose his mind,
If he didn't find another human being to talk to.
My wife's been shot,"the man said,
and in the way the man spoke,
he understood that he loved her.
He knelt on the road, his head in his hands
She ran to him and held his head to her chest.
He didn't resist."I'm so sorry," she said.
He shouted her name, and she looked up.
The Symphony's scouts rounded the curve on a horse
It was like vision from a dream
In the distance, pinpricks of light arranged into a grid,
Plainly visible on the side of the hill,
A town or a village, whose streets were lit up with electricity