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A Gift | Poem

 
 
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A Gift


Today eager hands received

The tatters of a musician's life,

Dogeared, broken-backed,

Foxed with grief that deepens

The runically encoded beauty.

Rebirth is justice:

The dreamer's part is to hold

Joy in trust until timemoths

Have eaten away all trace of pain,

Leaving fugue, counterpoint,

And a distant oboe,

Whose wistful countenance is veiled

In forgetfulness and lace.


- David W. Mitchell
 

to David   /   to Moongate

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