Without Mercy

The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

The moon aches without mercy,

her vast emptiness

shuddering beneath unforgiving night.

She has seen

far too many stars slip 

from the sky's tentative embrace,

only to fall in glorious, fiery demise.

She senses more are forming,

becoming born, but oh, it takes so long

and she grows weary of waiting

for seeds to bloom in utter darkness.

Winter is well on its way -

a tendered harvest is nigh.

Desolate tides command her attention

as so many lost and battered souls

weep under her pale, knowing light.

Even a sudden eclipse

shall give her no reprieve.