Rest before you sleep

Requiem after Fauré, for my father Rest before you sleep         You’ll be walking for hours then         as usual         away from home         your shoes in your hand         your feet not yet used to the road Perhaps they need to feel the gravel to know where they’re headed A woman I knew         who lived mostly in the woods mentioned the danger in presuming to know what an animal thinks         The fox         for example stopping by her open tent and looking in I suppose she would’ve felt this way about your feet She would’ve said how could anyone know what a pair of tired feet need along the way I would’ve asked her how she knew the feet were tired         Such discourse produces nothing but anything less would be silence and that would be intolerable I wish I knew why I was telling you this It’s easier to read the mind of a fox than to guess what a man’s about to say when he returns from the woods         head full of roots         veins more like branches         shoes in one hand         feet blistered         and none of this necessarily an indication of how the feet feel         what miles uphill and back have done to the soles and to the small bones that propel a man It’s safe now         I think         to speak for the fox who is only as cunning as we say it is We’re the only creatures that claim to be anything then build a house of facts around the claim I’ve come for vindication         No point in trying to disguise it as a lesser wish         Wake up         stop while you still know where you are         Put away your elusive country         Give your sleep a rest