Tuesday, May 09, 2006

104. THE WHITE TIGER - R. S. Thomas

The White Tiger - R. S. Thomas

It was beautiful as God
must be beautiful: glacial
eyes that had looked on
violence and come to terms

with it; a body too huge
and majestic for the cage in which
it had been put; up
and down in the shadow

of its own bulk it went
lifting, as it turned,
the crumpled flower of its face
to look into my own

face without seeing me. It
was the colour of the moonlight
on snow and as quiet
as moonlight, but breathing

as you can imagine that
God breaths within the confines
of our definition of him, agonizing
over immensities that will not return.