Poetry Magazine, Wes Johnson, November 2000

Poetry Magazine

Wes Johnson

USA

Light of Darkness

I read a poem once, in the days before my darkness,
It read "The moon is the mother of pathos and pity."
The words were foreign to me, cognizance lost...

I looked at the moon and saw fire, heart beating fast,
Standing in darkness and filled by the heat of the sun;
Reflection of souls, passion of spirit, hope held high...

It was the time when I held you tightly in the night,
Your breath was mine, your beauty kept me warm.
An angel in the darkness you flew between my reason,
As in each other's arms we found refuge from the storm.

You never knew that as you slept, as I kept silent watch,
Tears of gratitude often fell, like drops of soft warm rain.
Shafts of moonbeam on silken hair, golden child of God,
Your heartbeat plays in my soul, heaven's faint refrain.

I read a poem once, in the days before my darkness,
It read "The moon is the mother of pathos and pity."
Such a price for understanding, cold mother of the night,
Angels and dreams lost far too soon in quiet agony...

Angel

You came to me this morning,
In that gentle world between
Sound sleep and wakefulness;
I took your outstretched hand,
With clear and playful eyes I ran
Woodward with my adventuress.

We ran through fields of flowers,
And by chilly forest streams
Without a care or worry;
Until we fell quite breathless
Into a carpet of grasses,
Sighing most delightedly.

The light of day now burns my eyes,
The weight of life returns
My dreams they fade away.
The scars of life are deeply etched
Into this failing flesh,
Into the mind's byways.

Return me to that sprightly angel,
To that wondrous, waking dream
Where my soul explores.
Take me from reality's clutches,
Let me see her eyes once more,
Take me where my spirit soars.