How The Night Speaks Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

How the Night Speaks

Ah! the night speaks; speaks, yes,
so said the ancient Anchorite

the cave here on its walls
is a film of images
of all the history
of the world
this night


without watching, I dream
see the images
the sub-conscious glows
burning.
Because the night speaks.




How Silence Speaks

In the pool
a hidden hand
threw a stone
and it was night
long, long past dusk
of red:
and the circles
swelled
swelled in the pool
without a sound.





Verse and the Tomb

Verse and tomb
gloom and dread
fear and calm
An Angel with a sword
in his loins
stood by
all night


The Monument on the Tomb

Marble monuments shone
blue and white and
trembling azure light
for there was moon
and there was night.

A Spirit with sad eyes
He watched and
Stared vacant
In the ashen night
In the moving wind

A Spirit with tears
In the eyes
Silent embraced
With one hand
The monument on the tomb
Then
When the first gray of Dawn
Began to smile
Its way in to the Earth
And skies
He kissed the monument
The monument on the tomb.
And vanished.

Ashes to Ashes

Ashes to ashes
spoke

The morning was so rote
so tired

so bleak and
dread

life be so;
we humans bend
our heads
so often.

skeletons to skeletons
spoke
in rains and tempests
their teeth
chattering.

their heads of holes
left
the moon lit pass
through

the drum of night
in the distant end
of the cemetery
louder a little
by midnight
subsided by
three in the morning
by

above flying
things chattering
the trees
the moon
the stars
the night

ah! ashes to ashes
speak
of black and
ashes.