Just a sonnet for today’s post…
Sonnet of Night
Far, far away the waning moon’s a curl
Of parchment dropped upon the blackened night,
Upon its ink-dark page. It lies there, bright
As a torn fragment had been left half-furled.
For in this tale of a benighted world–
Its beauty and its sorrow–shall we write
Upon the fading moon in letters white
Our narratives inscribed with pens of pearl.
For night’s too brief to memorize our woes,
Too dark to comfort us, too long to hide
Our pain, and yet it shall inscribe our throes
Against the days beyond, that shall abide
To bring us joy. Bear witness, moon who knows
How great the grief, we loved ere we had died.
Beautiful
Incredibly beautiful.
You're one of the most gracious people I've met, Christine-and I admire your poetry and your work, and am plagued by feeling it's underappreciated. I want for thousands to see it, to read it, to feel it. Pity I am not a publisher and don't know anybody who's related to one. Sorry for the rant-it doesn't fit the beauty of the poem, at all. But it had to be said, somewhere....