Moonlight pours down

without mercy, no matter

how many have perished

beneath the trees.

The river rolls on.

There will always be

silence, no matter

how long someone

has wept against

the side of a house,

bare forearms pressed

to the shingles.

Everything ends.

Even pain, even sorrow.

The swans drift on.

Reeds bear the weight

of their feathery heads.

Pebbles grow smaller,

smoother beneath night’s

rough currents. We walk

long distances, carting

our bags, our packages.

Burdens or gifts.

We know the land

is disappearing beneath

the sea, islands swallowed

like prehistoric fish.

We know we are doomed,

done for, damned, and still

the light reaches us, falls

on our shoulders even now,

even here where the moon is

hidden from us, even though

the stars are so far away.

_____

© Dorianne Laux. All Rights Reserved.