Another old poem

December 21, 2011

Cassandra’s Cry


In the middle of the night

Having got back to bed

I listen to a song at the edge

Of a dream I can almost

Feel:  it is warm and we are

Laughing easily with one another

Above the soft thrumming of

Ancient empty rites and valiant

Funeral chants.  In the distance

You can hear the Sirens lament

Another lost chance at shipwreck and

Cassandra’s lonely cry.


But we bask and caress

In the morning’s blessing as the waves

Lap and kiss at our bare feet

And we run hand in hand

And fall into soft pillows of sand

And are heedless of

Time, the gods, our

Misprision of each other’s



When my husband awakes me at six

To the children’s calls and the day’s

Expectations, I can almost remember

Where I wanted to be

I can almost believe

I was there I can almost

Have faith we will one day

Meet I can almost be sure

Cassandra was wrong.




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