As John to Patmos

As John to Patmos  by Derek Walcott

As John to Patmos, among the rocks and the blue, live air, hounded

His heart to peace, as here surrounded

By the strewn-silver on waves, the wood’s crude hair, the rounded

Breasts of the milky bays, palms flocks, the green and dead

Leaves, the sun’s brass coin on my cheek, where

Canoes brace the sun’s strength, as John, in that bleak air,

So am I welcomed richer by these blue scapes, Greek there,

So I shall voyage no more from home; may I speak here.

This island is heaven – away from the dustblown blood of cities;

See the curve of bay, watch the straggling flower, pretty is

The wing’d sound of trees, the sparse-powdered sky, when lit is

The night.  For beauty has surrounded

Its black children, and freed them of homeless ditties.

As John to Patmos, in each love-leaping air,

O slave, soldier, worker under red trees sleeping, hear

What I swear now, as John did:

To praise lovelong, the living and the brown dead.