The town blind behind, blind woods ahead, And a whitened graveyard here. I stood alone with my luminous dread In the dying of the year. 5 From the midnight hill I'd seen below Huddled graves, yet each alone. And here and there in the hollow, low, A dent in snow without a stone. Poplars dropped odd shadows, the moon 10 Dropped a mood. Whatever talk may tell In me had talked-out too soon. I brushed a small glow from where it fell. The stony concentration of a face Shone angel no longer- here the snow 15 Wears his worn-out years of grace To the blankness of his soul. His name's gone out like shopfront lights, His verse survives by guesses. What had brought me here was what night 20 Had done with my distress. I walked out from being And walked to having been; Living was only seeing, Death's just having seen. 25 The bell was black and the time that tolled Was an absence in my heart. Into those bleak letter-gaps, I had rolled For all my part.
From the collection "Assembling the Earth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.