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Poem

Beyond midnight her tears distil,
burnishing the valley between
her height of hope and depth of pain;
till dusky waves awash her dawn.
From whence comes these soldiers? 
pure grapes trodden under the feet of fate...
before her eyes the moon did melt,
and cloudy wind gave rise to warmth.
The whirlwind blew away her bole,
her fountain flows still for her child,
the looming death defaced all her calm hours
and spoiled the night, hotly, in haste. 
Would God that she had immunized
her baby before the whirlwind roared.

The stars are speechless tonight,
the voice of the night lost its luster
the tears of her grief splashes like raindrops,
on the huts of ages long gone...without rooftops.
The spirits came knocking at the door;
the walls are broken, the keys are safe.
Her child like autumn leaves fell from its bole;
and swept away by the cold hands of candle-light.
O the beauty of vanity, the glory of mortality!
strength and faith fail the strong and mighty...
twilight trails the terrain of the tough and tender,
leaving the mark of pleasure, pain and passion;
unspoken, unheard yet seen in the sands of times.

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