A Land Where Chariots Ride
Ronald White’s partner of many years died peacefully earlier this week. He addressed this poem to her in November 1972.
Annus Mirabilis
Well, I asked for it, the great gift:-
A year of miracles, being you mostly,
And me being found, and sharing at last
Identities of loneliness.
I don’t need the fool’s mask for pain
Anymore. Nor could I again take up
The steel mask you lifted from my face:
They are your trophies from my wars.
And though at basis I am bone, I stand
Fleshed on a land where chariots ride
To frequent festivals.
And at last there is no fear.
© The Estate of Ronald M. White
