The Traveler

Robert Roe

I have been there—
I know the dreadful place.
I saw the horrid crawling things
That blew spume in my face.
I saw the grey-shape toilers
Bent upon their work,
And in the strangled silence
I breathed the rancid murk.

But I was bound
And could not move my hand,
Nor signal to the others
Who came to that land.

I saw them faintly moving
Against a strange sun,
That gave no light nor heat
Nor comfort anyone.

I could not warn the others;
I could not do a thing.
I could not break my heart,
Nor curse, nor sing.

Now I am back
From the dreadful place,
And that is why some people
See “something in his face.”