A weight bearing down
on the yellowed bed, in the used room
indelibly,

the way memory indelibly shapes
judgement and its content.
And by the bed, a yellow daisy

capturing sunlight, mourns
its brief and trembling time
as if its vase were an urn
and now, despite the brilliance, were ashes.

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

You have never been definite.
Your infinite definitions, each
contradicting their precedent.

A dull, double-edged sword,
unsharpened, unsheathed,
guided through my chest
by naïve empathy.

You are perfection
with intrinsic flaws--
I drown in the furious rapids
of your teary waterfalls.

I could venture on my own,
avoid you altogether,
but risk losing the essence
that keeps my soul tethered.

If you are love, you are an empty prison.
Empty cells,
empty halls,
plain white walls, motives hidden.

So what am I feeling?
Is this pain or affection
knocking loudly on my conscience
and interrupting my healing?

I see around me tombstones grey
Stretching their shadows far away.
Beneath the turf my footsteps tread
Lie low and lone the silent dead -
Beneath the turf - beneath the mould -
Forever dark, forever cold -
And my eyes cannot hold the tears
That memory hoards from vanished years
For Time and Death and Mortal pain
Give wounds that will not heal again -
Let me remember half the woe
I've seen and heard and felt below,
And Heaven itself - so pure and blest,
Could never give my spirit rest -
Sweet land of light! thy children fair
Know nought akin to our despair -
Nor have they felt, nor can they tell
What tenants haunt each mortal cell,
What gloomy guests we hold within -
Torments and madness, tears and sin!
Well - may they live in ectasy
Their long eternity of joy;
At least we would not bring them down
With us to weep, with us to groan,
No - Earth would wish no other sphere
To taste her cup of sufferings drear;
She turns from Heaven with a careless eye
And only mourns that we must die!
Ah mother, what shall comfort thee
In all this boundless misery?
To cheer our eager eyes a while
We see thee smile; how fondly smile!
But who reads not through that tender glow
Thy deep, unutterable woe:
Indeed no dazzling land above
Can cheat thee of thy children's love.
We all, in life's departing shine,
Our last dear longings blend with thine;
And struggle still and strive to trace
With clouded gaze, thy darling face.
We would not leave our native home
For any world beyond the Tomb.
No - rather on thy kindly breast
Let us be laid in lasting rest;
Or waken but to share with thee
A mutual immortality -

there are tears stinging her eyelid,
so many emotions are whirling round and round,
and her heart clenches as she looks ahead.

but when she looks into her future,
she sees nothing,
and she wonders.

for if she deserves one,
as someone so silent,
who cannot seem to find her voice.

and she ponders,
if she has the will power to influence,
or whether she will fall apart.