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PAR T The Driver At the end ofthe war I arose From my bed in the tent and walked Where the island fell through white stones Until it became the green sea. Into light that dazzled my brain Like the new thought ofpeace, I walked Until I was swimming and singing. Over the foundered landing craft That took the island, I floated, And then like a thistle came On the deep wind ofwater to rest Far out, my long legs ofshadow downpointing to ground where my soul Could take root and spring as it must. Below me a rusted halftrack Moved in the depths with the movement One sees a thing take through tears Ofjoy, or terrible sorrow, A thing which in quietness lies Beyond both. Slowly I sank And slid into the driver's shattered seat. Driving through the country ofthe drowned On a sealed, secret-keeping breath, Ten feet under water, I sat still, Getting used to the burning stare Ofthe wide-eyed dead after battle. I saw, through the sensitive roofHelmets / I82 F OUR ...

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