"In the late night, listening from bed,
I have joined the ambulance or the patrol
screaming toward some drama.
The kind of end that Berky must have someday,
if she isn't dead.
The wildest of all, her father and mother cruel,
farming out there beyond the old stone quarry where high school
lovers park their lurching cars, Berky
learned to love in that dark school.
Early, her face was turned away from home
toward any hardworking place.
But still, her soul, with terrible things to do,
was alive, looking out for the rescue that surely someday
would have to come.
Windiest nights, Berky, I have thought for you.
And no matter how lucky I've been, I've touched wood.
There are things not solved in our town, so tomorrow came.
There are things time passing can never make come true.
We live in an occupied country, misunderstood.
Justice will take us millions of intricate moves.
Sirens will hunt down Berky.
You survivors in your beds, while in the night
you lie so far and good.