• author
    • Stacey Robinson

    • December 23, 2013 in Columnists

    Twenty three

    And so I will lay you down
    In a field of grass,
    Sere and grey,
    Bending gracefully with the wind,
    And shadowing a hidden, twisted path
    That leads nowhere–
    Or everywhere.
    Forever back,
    Until I stand again
    At this place–
    This field of fearful beauty.

    I will lay you down,
    Aching with weariness,
    A hungering desire for
    Your touch,
    Your light,
    Your laugh–
    That is incandescent and
    And restores me–
    And comforts me–
    And feeds my soul.

    I will lay you down
    And weep,
    And be made holy,
    Sipping from a cup
    That overflows with my grief.
    But I will lay you down
    And I will dwell forever
    Sheltered only by the memory of you.