|SOMETHING IN THE NIGHT HAS LEARNED MY NAME|
Evening returned in drips and drabs,
Thinking I was facing extinction, I searched for continuance,
But it was not to be found, not in a shop window,
Least not tonight.
A thread of fear has been woven into the fabric that is night.
Like the reluctance of a window to open,
The night refuses to close.
The flowers are shivering and the grass ceases to breathe.
Nights appear to flow into each other,
Deprived of change we then must endure sameness.
Everything in the night is still.
Could this be the quietness of a soul taking roots?
Weapons extract more than they need,
Yet, swords have no power in the presence of the dead.
Why then are all the shadows armed to the teeth?
And why is it I hear my name being called out in the night?
In a world of chaos, I too am afraid.
I too have questions that will never be the recipient of answers,
If parallels meet will circles end?
Time holds the answer to every question,
It never requests more, it has enough on its hands.
Where I wonder, will time go when I am gone?
Sayreville, New Jersey
|RAYMOND REININGER, 64, Sayreville, New Jersey, a disabled veteran who supports himself by making beautiful crystal jewelry, has written 1000 poems in five years. He says if poetry were a woman, “then poetry is my wife.” Divorced, he has two daughters ages 9 and 11. His sign is Scorpio.