A poem by Emile Verhaeren. The poet discovered in a book purchased at the South Chicago Benedictine monastery Holy Cross. “A Time to Die: Monks on the Threshold of Eternal Life”

The hounds of despair, the hounds of the autumnal wind,
Gnaw with their howling the black echoes of evenings.
The darkness, immensely, gropes in the emptiness
For the moon, seen by the light of water.

From point to point, over there, the distant lights,
And in the sky, above, dreadful voices
Coming and going from the infinity of the marshes and planes
To the infinity of the valleys and the woods.

And roadways that stretch out like sails
And pass each other, coming unfolded in the distance, soundlessly,
While lengthening beneath the stars,
Through the shadows and the terror of the night.

What are heavy? Sea-sand and sorrow:
What are brief? To-day and to-morrow:
What are frail? Spring blossoms and youth:
What are deep? The ocean and truth.

A poem by Christina Rossetti

Poem by Dorianne Laux 1952 –

Moonlight pours down
without mercy, no matter
how many have perished
beneath the trees.

The river rolls on.

There will always be
silence, no matter
how long someone
has wept against
the side of a house,
bare forearms pressed
to the shingles.

Everything ends.
Even pain, even sorrow.

The swans drift on.

Reeds bear the weight
of their feathery heads.
Pebbles grow smaller,
smoother beneath night’s
rough currents. We walk

long distances, carting
our bags, our packages.
Burdens or gifts.

We know the land
is disappearing beneath
the sea, islands swallowed
like prehistoric fish.

We know we are doomed,
done for, damned, and still
the light reaches us, falls
on our shoulders even now,

even here where the moon is
hidden from us, even though
the stars are so far away.

Touring, traveling, observing,
Nothing being, no conflicting,
Moving, simply watching,
A stranger within a dream,
No agreements, I don’t
Want to hear, misdirection,
Talk about you, manipulation,
Or your loved ones, sentimentality,
Excessive display, ostentatious,
No characters, no nice guys,
No bad guys, nobody, coalescing into
Sublime, ridiculous inquisitions,
Instantaneously accepting defeat,
I can be nobody,
No need to be aware, nor
Disturbed by ionized air,
Passing, silently shifting through,
I don’t know what.