Evening Grief
How high my hopes I
humbly heap
To weed my sorrows,
rest to own
How loneliness, I seem to
keep
How deep in grief, my
heart is sown.
No cue of cheerful
compromise
Nor mercy, vast as land or
sea
Nor velvet clouds a-strow
the skies
To lend me tears and
chastity.
I've sprouted lust off
deary friends
And lost the glorious sea
of love
Whither I rolled in Heav'n
descends
Whither I slept on arms
above.
What webs I've woven,
blindly still
In words so dark, so vile
and vain
And roughly, fast, I fall to
ill
And bath in showers of
growing pain.
The winds of sorrow,
forth and back
Are blown so oft, I pale to
grief
And piece to piece, I
drown to black
And piece from piece, I
lose relief.
Alas! I curl to living-part
To sleep as infants new
to breath
The art I own, I owe to art
In vast regret, I'm swept
to death.
Copyright © Mustapha Mosi Gomina | Year Posted 2013
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