Dylan Thomas

(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

There Was a Saviour


There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.

The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest,
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal, or bird
We hid our fears in that murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.

There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.

Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we who could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall,

For the drooping of homes
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Rookie Ghost Writer Insomnis (7/8/2009 6:05:00 PM)

    The tune of this lyrical inspiration will forever resound; who survives the insane aftermath of life, death, love and madness? The victory here is a life taken from dust; akin to leaving an outer garment fall to it's final resting place, knowing the spiritual value is within the person, and never the coverings. What transcends can never be left behind. We will be taken in time as our decaying vessel gives up its purpose.
    A world blessed by poetic verse, is the same world insane with indifference. Hope lies in the desire of our heart. What will speak of us when we become gone? The only thing that will go on forever the spirit we were given and its desire to go home. (Report) Reply

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