mother poem

within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
which i wish to remark
tell me not
beneath the warrior's helm
darkest, strangest mystery
he came and took me by the hand
among the mountains i wandered
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
soft as the bed in the earth
is there anybody there
i cannot always feel his greatness
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
do you hear the rain?
in your flight