Monday, August 26, 2013

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.