Shantih copyright 1972 by Tracy Marks   she whispered then with the             dusk landing at her side, "shantih shantih"; it was a cry she could not                   stifle. often walking          down the beach she would turn and mouth the word, as if some crepe-wrapped hero             had the name.                      once         she had clutched the dawn to her, called it her       child then learned that possessing left        deeper hollows - before questions grew, there were      replies/ words could not name them, nor could forms                            of discarded dreams. when she stopped      they welled inside her,  not wanting       to be named, or - explained? there was once a need/         alone she lived the dusk, in copper streams she swirled      before the movements of the ground, became the horizon,                         cried "shantih shantih" because      of the sound of the word. she would reach         its ebb again then let it   go.

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