the tears they chose / themselves

[zarahemla]

A Cynic At Kilmainham Jail
by Eavan Boland

There is nowhere that the gimlet twilight has not
Entered, not a thing indeed to see
But it is excellent abroad for ghosts:
A gaslamp in the dark seems to make sea
Water in the rising fog--maybe
For those imprisoned here this was a small
Consoling inland symbol--
how could their way be
Otherwise discovered back to the western seaboard?
How could they otherwise be free in prison
Who for more than forty years have been shot through
To their Atlantic hearts?
                                                But in this wizened
Autumn dark, no worship, mine or yours,
Can resurrect the sixteen minds. O those
Perhaps (Godspeed them) saw the guns with dual
Sight--seeing from one eye with the tears they chose
Themselves the magic, tragic town, the broken
Countryside, the huge ungenerous tribe
Of cowards and the one eye laughing saw
(God help them) growing from their own graves to jibe
At death, a better future, neither tear nor flaw.