By Ron Cross

In the dark,
There is no prejudging.
White is black,
Warmth is comfort,
You and I remain
Our differences mingle
Into one.

In the dark,
There are no shadows,
Fear is laid
At the feet of the known
And a word or two

In the dark,
Your pain fills the world
And I cannot follow
But as a spectator,
Helpless until
It is done.

In the dark,
The child is laid
With unspoken word,
And lone grief chokes
Your heartache plea
"Why, why must it be."

In the dark,
The room heals,
No matter
How far it be
And time consumes
The pain
But not the seed.

In the dark,
The alarm is set.
To rise once more
Is a gift.
To the dark
We close our eyes…
And sleep.


Ron is one of the Poets Unleashed, and they have graciously granted us permission to share this excerpt from their book of the same title. For more information about Poets Unleashed, please see http://members.tripod.com/poetsunleashed/index.htm.

Loss  | Vashon | Services | Art | Poetry | Store | Contact

© 1999 KotaPress All rights reserved.  ISSN 1534-1410 www.KotaPress.com
Please direct comments regarding this web site to webmaster@KotaPress.com