Sorrowing Hour


“No darker place than our thoughts, the midnight of the mind” – Dean Koontz

 

H awk moon hangs heavy
in the damp night sky

bulbous moist orb
punches
through a cold chromium fog

wet slivers of cloud
ooze themselves
across its face
breathing

it’s midnight
the sorrowing hour


laying bare your soul
in frail introspection

in grief of secrets

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse

 


12 thoughts on “Sorrowing Hour”

  1. This is stunning. “Hawk moon”—I like that.

    “punches
    through a cold chromium fog” … I think yours is my favorite use of “punch.”

    “wet slivers of cloud
    ooze themselves” … flipping fantastic

    Dean Koontz was one of my first author-loves. He will always claim a piece of my heart.

  2. Oh, I love the phrase “grief of secrets.” It calls to mind those creative collective words often used for animals…”a murmuration of starlings,” “a murder of crows”…a grief of secrets.

    1. For me De, “grief of secrets” expresses the secret world I inhabit which, in consideration for those in my current life, whom I love, a secret world of memories/feelings I can never share. As Joni put it in her song, “My Secret Place”, it’s “…a secret place, a special place…” which as she wrote, “…I (she) don’t go there with anyone…”. That is my “grief of secrets”, which I only can visit in “…frail introspection…”, careful not to reveal. It is not a painful place, but for me, rather a wonderful private secret place. It is just that I cannot, must not out of love, celebrate it with anyone else currently in my life, for any number of reasons — therein springs the bittersweet “grief”. In her song, she found someone with whom she felt she could share her secret place — but she is more bold in her personal emotional life, than I.

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