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More Poetry
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excerpts from "Litany Of Days"
by Constance Black
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Anita, transparent,
Burnt out after chemotherapy,
And I don't know what to say.
I keep hearing little sounds magnified,
As if elves are dwelling in corners of the house,
Meaning mischief.
Perhaps it's fate I hear,
Clear sharp taps on the window
In the silence of the night.
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Modulation, moods, modes, major and minor,
The ones between forgotten.
We slide our lives
Between waking and dreaming, caught
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In mirrors of ourselves.
Action and reaction, that life built out of this,
And viceversa. So stuck, we shuttle
Between death and life, like shuttling between
Washington and New York, caught,
Mesmerized, in the web of our lives,
Until a penetration occurs, of another possibility----
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Last night, dim twilight, warm,
The fireflies glowing specks
Among the closing daylilies.
The light lingered late, glowing
Behind the great trees.
Heavenly days, sombre newa,
The drag of fear, of death,
Stealing in at the end of this lovely day.
But isn't death only the night?
A prelude to a new dawn?
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Poetry-"Fire & Light"
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New Publication
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