R. H. W. DILLARD  |  From What Is Owed the Dead

Courage

“Es steht da,” it is there, like “unser Leben,” all that
Is the case, words, your being able to “accept many
Things,” wars, one you fought in, “vom Wahnsinn”
Surrounded, madness, three dead brothers, Selbtsmord,
Tempted yourself, suffered “die Schrecken der Hölle,”
A single day quite enough, instead “Selbstgespräche,”
Conversations, Ludwig, often stammered, with yourself,
Silent, locked, where “man nicht sprechen kann,”
Yet sure philosophy should be written “nur dichten,”
As a poem, spoke like a lion (who could understand?),
Today lionized, reviled, revered, explained, imagined,
Abused, outed (puzzle “solved”), despite commandment,
“Spiele nicht,” don’t toy with, “den Tiefen,” depths
Of another, whole cloud of philosophy “kondensiert,”
Last days, dreams, rain, “Mut,” fumbled, now for keys,
Mislaid spectacles, then, finally, face to face, “das Wort.”  

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