Μêtis.....oûtis

“μητις.....οὐτις”
by W. D. Snodgrass
For R. M. Powell
He fed them generously who were his flocks,Picked, shatterbrained, for food. Passed as a goatAmong his sheep, I cast off. Though hurled rocksAnd prayers deranged by torment tossed our boat,I could not silence, somehow, this defiantMind. From my fist into the frothed wake ranThe white eye’s gluten of the living giantI had escaped, by trickery, as no man.
Unseen where all seem stone blind, pure disguiseHas brought me home alone to No Man’s landTo look at nothing I dare recognize.My dead blind guide, you lead me here to claimStill waters that will never wash my hand,To kneel by my old face and know my name.
“μητις.....οὐτις” From Heart's Needle by W. D. Snodgrass. Copyright © 1954,1959 by W. D. Snodgrass.