Hope

One of the first poems I wrote.


Hope


Sitting alone I was in a darkling tomb
And while getting astray in the gloom,
Once into my tightly locked room stole
A string of sunbeam through a narrow hole
In where Darkness awfully did prevail
And trials to oust Silence were of no avail
I beheld a glimmer with corner of my eye
Like that one of a nightly starry sky
Downwards that fair beam was pounding for
And curiously wandering as if probing the floor
Sweaty I felt and struck by wonder
My limbs were shaking, yet young and tender
But gathering, and with a lion’s fierce paws
Greedily my fingers over it I did close
I knew not how it evaded from my control
And upon bent fingers did settle and fall
Thus soon angry it turned, and told:
“Never by such a force are things hold;
Ye, hasty humans, have no portion of patience
To handle your matters of joy and rations.”
Its words, I may confess, were truly wise
Enough for me to feel guilty and apologize
So I did lose force, and flattened my hand
For the roaming string to descend and land
After many a second it made a reply content
With a great divine generosity before it went
To moor smoothly upon my flat white palm
And bring my nerves to a pleasant calm.
So where it stood was drawn a golden stain
Which then brought some heat of no pain
And its pure glittering sharply dazzled me
After a reflection was shed to a degree
Over thirsty walls which rejoiced in the light
Of dawn’s peeping after a long wailful night
That my admiration increasingly grew
“O gentle spy,” cried I, “who are you?
Ah, you should be the little child of Sun
Which from east to west does daily run;
And what for are you getting here
To earth leaving your high atmosphere?”
My questions did flow with a higher tone
In a file they were as many a hailstone,
But came to an end by a later reply
That beam made while comfortably did lie
“Slowly!” I heard, “everything you will be
Told but not before I hear your story.”
With each we dealt, and friends we made
And I got blessed with that new comrade.
So I spoke to him of Past and Present
From early cradle to that still moment
Of children’s foolery and adults’ wisdom,
As well as of Slavery and Freedom.
Also I spoke of night dark and morn light
Passions that pain, and Mirths that delight
So did I about humanly Hope and Fear
One with a smile, while one with a tear
With a wide mouth I continued to speak
About Hate we deny and Love we seek;
Reality in its home and Fancy in its empire
Thus I told him of Reason and Desire.
None forgot I to tell my attentive friend
“Now! Your turn,” said I, “for mine did end”
But that time, alas, I heard not any replies
And had to open wide my half-closed eyes
To pry the room. I made a loud scream
Save its echo, no sound did make the beam
Thus I realized that my friend had gone
After its mission to my room was vaguely done
What was left is my destiny to face,
A dream to enjoy, a mirage to chase!


April 15, 2003