Poem
Chris Magadza
Marie
Marie
Marie
See yonder sinking orb;
The white egrets follow
Imagined leader;
In perfect formation,
Perfect obedience
To the dictates of
Time repeating,
Fly home to roost.
Time dies darker
And strange voices
Invade the fading harmony
Of an ending symphony.
Would that at this hour
I could hold your hand
And feel the soft drumbeat
Of that ending song,
The surge of the last roll,
The crushing thunder
Of a much travelled wave
At last lying to rest
On strange shore.
Oh would that we could wander
In the evening light
Of histories and hopes,
Of paths meeting and
Paths parting
Of powers and hatreds
Waning,
And passions
Grown limb.
I would whisper
A new symphony to you
A song; A vision
Yet too distant to imagine;
An anthem of eternal love.
The white egrets follow
Imagined leader;
In perfect formation,
Perfect obedience
To the dictates of
Time repeating,
Fly home to roost.
Time dies darker
And strange voices
Invade the fading harmony
Of an ending symphony.
Would that at this hour
I could hold your hand
And feel the soft drumbeat
Of that ending song,
The surge of the last roll,
The crushing thunder
Of a much travelled wave
At last lying to rest
On strange shore.
Oh would that we could wander
In the evening light
Of histories and hopes,
Of paths meeting and
Paths parting
Of powers and hatreds
Waning,
And passions
Grown limb.
I would whisper
A new symphony to you
A song; A vision
Yet too distant to imagine;
An anthem of eternal love.
Kariba, 1990
© 2006, Chris Magadza
From: Father and other poems
Publisher: Poetry International Web,
From: Father and other poems
Publisher: Poetry International Web,
Poems
Poems of Chris Magadza
Close
Marie
See yonder sinking orb;
The white egrets follow
Imagined leader;
In perfect formation,
Perfect obedience
To the dictates of
Time repeating,
Fly home to roost.
Time dies darker
And strange voices
Invade the fading harmony
Of an ending symphony.
Would that at this hour
I could hold your hand
And feel the soft drumbeat
Of that ending song,
The surge of the last roll,
The crushing thunder
Of a much travelled wave
At last lying to rest
On strange shore.
Oh would that we could wander
In the evening light
Of histories and hopes,
Of paths meeting and
Paths parting
Of powers and hatreds
Waning,
And passions
Grown limb.
I would whisper
A new symphony to you
A song; A vision
Yet too distant to imagine;
An anthem of eternal love.
The white egrets follow
Imagined leader;
In perfect formation,
Perfect obedience
To the dictates of
Time repeating,
Fly home to roost.
Time dies darker
And strange voices
Invade the fading harmony
Of an ending symphony.
Would that at this hour
I could hold your hand
And feel the soft drumbeat
Of that ending song,
The surge of the last roll,
The crushing thunder
Of a much travelled wave
At last lying to rest
On strange shore.
Oh would that we could wander
In the evening light
Of histories and hopes,
Of paths meeting and
Paths parting
Of powers and hatreds
Waning,
And passions
Grown limb.
I would whisper
A new symphony to you
A song; A vision
Yet too distant to imagine;
An anthem of eternal love.
Kariba, 1990
From: Father and other poems
Marie
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