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by Fred Chappell
Grandfather Settle dozes, aware
And unaware. The buzz and stutter,
Rasp and gibber of family
Mount and subside, a restless sea
Of signalling like the mutter
Of radiation from a darkened star.
He now inhabits a calmer space,
And nobler, than his kinfolk do.
If he regards them, it's from the distance
Half-sleep projects with mild persistence
Between all figures that come and go,
Casting quick shadows across his face.
The vivid continent unmoors
And drifts away, bearing its plains
And plaintive peoples eastward. Alone,
He has become an isle of stone
And coral, voices and light strains
Of music, shadows and undulant flowers.
Now, as the world withdraws its heat,
Unsteady pulse, and heartsickness
Farther and farther away, regret
Troubles him never. He may forget
The past or recall it as it was—
Even the parts that were incomplete.
It makes no difference. Goodbye,
Nation of heedless ghosts. Farewell.
Grandfather Settle bids you peace
And happiness, prosperity's
Beyond all count. The whelming swell
Of floodtide divides the sky.
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