Greetings by Short Wave

No matter how the land may rise
To snatch all ocean for a prize,
Or ocean rush against the land
With smoking torment in its hand,
Or land and sea combine to tear
The cold virginity of air;
When we can dial a face to face
From any place to any place,
Transport our bodies on a flash,
Death reserves the swoon, the crash;
No matter how invention may
Reduce the debt, still death will pay.
How difficult to sort deceit
Where fear and fear forever meet;
How we shall thirst for distance when
Our thoughts are known to other men;
Land will be as hard to track
As a bomb that slips the rack;
Air will be as hard to climb,
The sea to swim, the will to time;
Distance as infinite shall roll
Between one soul and another soul.
Yet hope still lifts her scarlet blooms
From the commonwealth of tombs;
Enough that London, in the night,
Sets old syllables to light:
It takes a shorter wave to tell
The rest, the last, the all’s well.

ELLIOTT COLEMAN