John E Marks Poems

These bloody dead

That debt we owe,
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A holy river runs through us -

the river of life -
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I remember fallingas a child

And being lifted by a fairy-wild
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O! daughter dear, on this mid-western afternoon,

When I can see all the way to Sacramento, I cry
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Suttee, Sanskrit sati ("good woman" or "chaste wife") , a Hindu custom of a wife immolating herself on the funeral pyre of her dead husband.

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Birdsong flung into fond recall

A dry-stone wall,
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Redemption comes at such a cost
Freezing winds off the Irish sea
Blow me away from hearth and home
At such a cost - loss pressing on loss -
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Light waves to Schrödinger's cat,
it does not matter
if a particular particle's partiality
parts from the classical concept
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"Leave you homesick for a home you never had..."John Moreland
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Notre Dame's Gothic aspiration

Became a symbol of the French nation.
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