Little Ending

Bowls will receive us,
                                        and sprinkle black scratch in our eyes.
Later, at the great fork on the untouchable road,
It won’t matter where we have become.

Unburdened by prayer, unburdened by any supplication,
Someone will take our hand,
                                                someone will give us refuge,
Circling left or circling right.

From Sestets by Charles Wright. Copyright © 2009 by Charles Wright. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC, All rights reserved.