Poems of Narad

Time For Broken Things To Mend

I watch her hobbling up the long high hill
That rises from the lake to reach my door,
Injured and in pain advancing still
To greet me as she's often done before,

My mallard friend who lives from man apart
Yet chooses to acknowledge me as friend
She of the crippled foot and I the heart
Both needing time for broken things to mend.

Fall has come and russets tint the sky
The mauve of asters, bright chrysanthemums
Sparkle as the fleeting grasses die.
This welcome chill invades the limbs and numbs

The flesh and numbing too the heart,
But I live on hoping yet to heal
The fractured soul before I must depart
This earthly soil on whose soft breast I kneel.

We must bear the harsh iniquity of death
And know that in our dark resides a light,
To strive until the final gasping breath
Escapes the heavy burden of the night

As we take flight to rest in other spheres
And all our squandered energies replace,
Shed the gross accumulate of years
And find again the one beloved face.