I was wondering if I could shape this passion Just as I wanted in solid fire. I was wondering if the strange combustion of my days The tension of the world inside of me And the strength of my heart were enough. I was wondering if I could stand as tall, While the tide of the sea rose and fell. If the sky would recede as I went, Or the earth would emerge as I came To the door of the morning, locked against the sun. I was wondering if I could make myself Nothing but fire, pure and incorruptible. The wound of the wind on my face Would be healed by the work of my life Or the growth of the pain in my sleep Would be stopped in the strife of my days. I am wondering if the agony of years Could be traced to the seed of an hour. If the roots that spread out in the swamp Ran too deep for the issuing flower. I was wondering if I could find myself All that I am in all that I could be. If all the population of stars Would be less than the things I could utter And the challenge of space in my soul Be filled by the shape I become. I walk slowly in the wind, Watching myself in things I did not make; In jumping shadows and in limping cripples Dust on earth and houses tight with sickness Deep constant pain, the dream without sleep. I walk slowly in the wind, Hearing myself in the loneliness of a child In woman's grief, which is not understood In coughing dogs when midnight lingers long On stones, on streets and then on echoing stars, That burn all night and suddenly go out. I walk slowly in the wind Knowing myself in every moving thing In years and days and words that mean so much Strong hands that shake, long roads that walk And deeds that do themselves. And all this world and all these lives to live. I walk slowly in the wind, Remembering scorn and naked men in darkness And huts of iron rivetted to earth. Cold huts of iron stand upon this earth Like rusting prisons Each is well marked and each wide roof is spread Like some dark wing Casting a shadow or living a curse. I walk slowly in the wind To lifted sunset red and gold and dim A long brown river slanting to an ocean A fishing boat, a man who cannot drown. I walk slowly in the wind And birds are swift, the sky is blue like silk. From the big sweeping ocean of water An iron ship rusted and brown achors itself. And the long river runs like a snake Silent and smooth. I walk slowly in the wind. I hear my footsteps echoing down the tide Echoing like a wave on the sand or a wing on the wind Echoing echoing A voice in the soul, a laugh in the funny silence. I walk slowly in the wind I walk because I cannot crawl or fly.