The moving dark dragged over me
By light’s swift exit there
Is full of things I cannot see
That settle in my hair
The silent creeping skittering things
That haunt me night and day
Find scuttling harmony that sings
Where they come out to play
And in the dark of my night mind
I hear them chanting there
The tones and scales of going blind
Condemning those who care
Turn back, oh dark, come forth, good night
Or day will break at last
And in my bartering numbed-down sight
Reveal the sins that passed
I cannot mourn what isn’t known
I cannot grieve the loss
For by the seeds of sorrow sown
You did not count the cost.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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