FOR A DYING FRIEND
This night silences even the crickets
And the full moon is hidden by clouds…
No TV sells lottery tickets.
No radio rocks midnight’s shrouds.
No appetite cries out for curbing.
No frowning pain’s worth flinching from.
No restlessness stirs with disturbing.
No anger ignites hatred’s bomb.
All worldly woe’s lost worry’s meaning.
All hushes, both here and afar.
All poetry’s writ; all cleaning
Is done; night gleams a lone star.
Strange how profound this pure peace is;
Death unlocks pain’s jail, releases…