Solstice

 

And now it has arrived, this darkest night --
and the rain, which cuts the sky and faces
like a knife designed to part the short day from the sun
(what ends from what's begun, my life from yours) --
and all the endings of the world run screaming
across the horizon trailing ragged flags
in all the bitter colors loss assumes
until, to save us, in that blackest, bleakest moment -- 3 am,
when all those worries gather in your throat,
silent sentries, standing helpless
as the multitudes of fear surge forth in waves --
sleep finally arrives to hold us in her arms
and rock us gently toward a newer, brighter day.