Tuesday, April 28, 2020
A wailing, keening, tearing of the night,
That cries unfelt, unheard by all the rest
Who share this dawn, this soft, cascading light.
Awake at last, my soul -- bereft, forlorn,
Swift rises to the challenge of the day,
And stands, and shakes, the cost of being torn,
Homesick, from dreams of comfort far away;
From darkness-opened doors to warmth and peace,
Enough to eat, and arms to hold you tight,
And make the shooting, shouting, screaming cease.
A world of dreams that lives only at night.
A home that never was, for which I grieve;
Perhaps some night, I'll dream and never leave...
We all long for peace and warmth and love -- for a home to which we can return when the world beats us bloody and we need to feel safe. Some only know this in their dreams, and some leave us too soon to seek that solace.
Posted by Mick at 12:31 PM