Late afternoon sky is a burning
into a dark evening,
a new moon starts peeping...
they have laboured hard, as any day,
work ends not, while there's light,
every sunset, the night drapes them
with its cold, comforting shadows,
they claim the night, for themselves,
no masters to order them around,
just them and the fleeing night,
for days seem prolonged, and
nights have become shorter
they beg the sky, and persist,
"please, let the dark stay longer,
why not let the dawn be deferred?
give us space, from each cruel day,
in the dark of night,
let us live our dreams..."
tell them, moon,
whisper to their ears, gentle wind,
whence do they moor their weary souls?
lighten the burdens of their aching lives
give rest to their fatigued brain,
heal their pained arms and feet,
o gentle wind, whisper to their ears,
in your silent ways, lead them, moon,
to a place where freedom reigns
and offers restful slumber....for,
only in the dark of night,
can they live their dreams...
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 20, 2020
(inspired by Claude Mckay's "The Tired Worker"