knittingknots (knittingknots) wrote,
knittingknots
knittingknots

  • Mood:

Poem: This Night

Takes place April 23, 1558 in my story sequence, in case your interested.


This Night


This night,
as the moments creep by,
he waits sitting by a fire
under the stars, alone,
surrounded by well-wishers.

Someone offers him tea,
and he takes the cup,
turning it slowly in his hands,
then stares into its depths,
its pale green
darkened by the night sky,
like his heart by the waiting,
his ears flattening
as he hears he cry out.

He sips the brew,
lets the bitter liquid
slide over his tongue
not seeing the friends
gathered around him,
but only her eyes,
how they looked
as they pushed him aside,
and the small, frightened smile
she gave him,
and the touch of her hand
as he let himself be pulled away.

Helpless,
in that way men have been
since the beginning
in the face of women’s mysteries
in the face of this one mystery,
poised between life and death,
he puts the cup aside,
staring wordlessly into the fire,
as his friend grasps his shoulder.
He hears her cry out louder,
and clenches his fist,
drawing blood.

Suddenly, a new cry cuts through the air,
a voice he has never heard before,
wailing in the night.

Looking up, he sees her,
the old woman who chased him way,
guardian of this mystery,
now tired and happy,
smiling as she holds out a hand.
“Come in,” she says softly,
“and meet your new son.”

Bounding, he runs inside.
It might be still night, but his morning has come.

Tags: poem
Subscribe

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments