by Unknown
Apr 2013 800 Views 10 comments
Heart Of The Night
April 20, 2013
She strolls the lakeshore to welcome dusk,
and gather the calm that evening brings.
Day birds settle as night birds take flight;
the stillness echoes their flapping wings.
A song a lover once sang to her,
has found its way through the waning light.
She can almost feel him touching her,
as the warm breeze stirs, this gentle night.
She won’t admit how alone she feels.
Memories carry her just so far.
How do moon shimmers on the water,
so easily find each wound and scar?
How did the moon come to know so much?
The cloak of darkness, this secret place;
she could hide and believe the silence,
drifting with the stars that filled this space.
THEY are her loving comfort this night,
till her heart can purge all that’s sour.
THEY are a nurturing mother’s song,
and she to them, a sacred flower.
THEY can unleash her unspoken rage,
pulling daggers from beneath her breast.
She must bleed, then find arms of safety,
wherein she can finally know rest.
She walks a journey in sorrow's name.
She, to THEM, a child of the ages.
Dawn guides her back to reality,
light of heart, Spirit blessed; clean new pages.
She strolls the lakeshore to welcome dusk,
and gather the calm that evening brings.
Day birds settle as night birds take flight;
the stillness echoes their flapping wings.
A song a lover once sang to her,
has found its way through the waning light.
She can almost feel him touching her,
as the warm breeze stirs, this gentle night.
She won’t admit how alone she feels.
Memories carry her just so far.
How do moon shimmers on the water,
so easily find each wound and scar?
How did the moon come to know so much?
The cloak of darkness, this secret place;
she could hide and believe the silence,
drifting with the stars that filled this space.
THEY are her loving comfort this night,
till her heart can purge all that’s sour.
THEY are a nurturing mother’s song,
and she to them, a sacred flower.
THEY can unleash her unspoken rage,
pulling daggers from beneath her breast.
She must bleed, then find arms of safety,
wherein she can finally know rest.
She walks a journey in sorrow's name.
She, to THEM, a child of the ages.
Dawn guides her back to reality,
light of heart, Spirit blessed; clean new pages.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2013
About this poem:
There is so much meaning in this poem and I wish I could know what others get from it. I've already been asked what I was thinking when I wrote it. As you can tell, many things. My life, my mom, how it is for us alone when night comes. Thoughts?Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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Comments (10)
The message I get from your amazing write is
Only in the heart of night the journey of ones thoughts, and dreams, come to life.
Morning calm in a new day..and we soldier on with hope.
A fresh start..new beginnings
Thank you for sharing.. amazing read..
How do moon shimmers on the water,
so easily find each wound and scar
moon magic
How did the moon come to know so much?
The cloak of darkness, this secret place;
lovely Celtic
Memories carry her just so far.
How do moon shimmers on the water,
so easily find each wound and scar?
A very reflective poem Celtic... One I can identify with.
Paloma, Thank YOU for your sweet comments. Life really IS about the journey and the joy of life is in that. This poem finds me pondering and healing, finding and letting go. A very cathardic piece for me right now. They say rage is a part of healing in grief and I haven't felt that yet. I am aware of it. I am just letting this happen how it will and must. Thanks again for the lovely comments and connection.
Poet, so WONDERFUL to hear from you. Your comments always touch me deep. I suppose part of that is because I have seldom had men actually comment on my poetry until I came to this site. I get the usual vibe that poetry is wasted on them, or they couldn't care less. I am honored by your thoughtfulness. It's not that I need high praise. It just so nice to get an honest response. None of us like being torn apart and I write as an outlet and maybe once in awhile, just maybe, I really have something to say. LOL. Hugs to you friend and I hope all is well in your world.
Thank you ALL for your continued blessings in my life and for your support through this very difficult time. My mom was always proud of my poetry and it feels so strange not having her to share with anymore. She there with me though in spirit. Spirit as used in this piece is both God and a my dear mum. Blessed be to you all. Celtic
swirl through the senses with all the female mystique.
Romance runs through your veins like living waters.
Thank you for this:
Wow! You paint a canvas full of rich and deep colours that
swirl through the senses with all the female mystique.
Romance runs through your veins like living waters.
That is one of the sweetest things a man has EVER said to me.
I want the man who doesn't run from that and wants to embrace
it full on. This poem is about so many things and I cherish your
comments. Soon I will post a new challenge in the medieval vein,
and it's becaue I have SO much fun with everyone when we do. I
have some things to attend over the next couple weeks with my
family and it will be heavy stuff. But it will be done. Bless you for
your kindness here and endless support. Celtic