He had his Eurydice,
and then did not; walked down that long, dark way to find her, bring her back; but doubting, turned and glanced behind, to lose his love for good. A tale of foolishness, or one of destiny; we shake our heads, but take the lesson down the ages taught— mourn, and move on. And yet, we all have our own Eurydices. Though we may struggle, protest fate, and rage, there is no singing back from final sleep; no drawing up that steep and sliding slope; no rescue at sea from the sinking boat. We walk our walk with those who falter, fall back, and go down; One day, we too must lag and fall. We cannot bring them forward, but to them we shall slip back. |
Eurydices
from Forth into Silence : Poems, 1st ed., Mar. 2017.
1st web edition posted 3/23/2017.
Published by Fleabonnet Press.
©
2016-2017 by
Brian Kunde.