shadows

May 14, 2008 - 19:28 PM PST

“But the young man said to himself, 'They are but Shadows that sing thus; for a Shadow can see but Shadows. A man sees a man where a Shadow sees only a Shadow.'
And he was comforted in himself."

for how long, then, have we assumed that shadows were born and nursed by the light?
are they not in their sweet silence complete, resplendent in darkness and jet liquid night?
i tell you the day did not give them their reach,
her womb did not breach
with the issue of dancers, soft sole and soft tread,
clinging tight to the sheets of her stained bloody bed.
no, the day did not make them, they were not fashioned or carved
by smithy or shoer, no minstrel or bard
could use words to reach them or tell of their truth,
for the shadows are silent, content and aloof.
the shadows they come and the shadows they stay,
sometimes they dance dirges and sometimes they play.
for some they will waver, for some they hold still--
but most of them most want
a corner to fill.