Poems of Narad

The Gates of Night

Sept. 30, 2005

Yes, I have read the poetry of death
And eulogies so eloquent of life
Yet drew in pain each shallow, lonely breath
While sorrow cut me as a surgeon's knife

Pierces the body's walls to heal the heart.
I walk in a penumbra of the sun
Or an eclipse from which I cannot part.
Three years have passed, the healing scarce begun

But slowly as I wander in a haze
Of memories of bright and tranquil hours
When the light of the beloved filled my days
And every path was strewn with dappled flowers.

My soul's companion flown from earthly sight
Now I am left to front the gates of night.