March 05, 2012
So, I got a little behind on posting. Maybe a day late. But I wanted to take my time rewriting an old poem. It's hard to write without trying to sound like someone else. Trusting my own voice has always been difficult for me. But I think I'm learning.
End of Day
This dark, dank, thick of night inflicts its wicked way on all,
the stars swallowed
up by thoughtless lack of light. Does God
condone such
evil deeds that sweep away the universe, buries
all inside a
dreadful emptiness? A death to dreams. Only
darkness
black and cold awaits the ones who wander out tonight.
But there is
one tiny hope: the moon, she still abides, her jaundice
smile expels
the treachery this sinful loom emits. Regrets? Yes, all
stacked up
along her jagged shore, as once more hope shines bright
upon this
careless life we live. For all’s at peace inside this shameful
grave. Fair
Luna strikes her lamp against the end of day.
—rrw 3-24-11
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