POETRY BY ERIC W. ROPES
TRIALS
&
TRIBULATIONS
P. LX
"Prayers at Ebb Tide"
Night...
It is ebb tide on the troubled
shores of my existence,
and I row slowly out,
deep into the darkness.
There is a wicked moon present,
and it sheds barely the light to see the land.
The stars,
out of reach goals
and memories gone by,
drive me further into the night.
I pull the oars into the boat,
this is far enough...
The waters are darker
than the sky,
and my reflection is merely a
shadow in the tides.
There comes a creeping warmth
from behind,
and I can feel the light.
Do I dare turn around?
My eyes are fixed on the water
before me,
and I gaze on the shape of...
...an Angel (?)
She floats behind me,
and though the boat ripples the
water of her form,
her image is clear and known to me.
My hands grasp the side of my
craft and squeeze.
Please let me touch her!
Let us drift through the waters,
let us walk along the beaches,
let her read my reeling lines,
but let us be friends,
together...
I see her reaching for me,
she prays that my darkness will
come to light.
Tears well in my eyes as I
grow desperate.
I whirl around to face her...
...But she is gone...
Once, when I was young,
I waited for the burdens
of manhood to rest my fate
before my weary eyes.
I sat upright in my bed,
lamenting the loss of
my youth...
...lamenting the loss of
my family.
In that night of darkest
times, Death had come
to me, and she wrapped
her beautiful, pale arms
around me in an embrace.
With tears in my eyes I
glanced at her desperately.
Her face, as pale as her arms,
was soft, almost sad.
A tender look crossed her
rosy lips, and her deep,
loving eyes seemed to grasp
at my soul.
Somehow, the ringing of the
bells and the longing rush
told me that she wasn't
here to take me.
I asked her plainly to
take me away, to make
things better.
She shook her head and I
watched the suburban streetlight
flow over her gorgeous features
like water to skin.
She spoke in a tone so
melodious, it sparked
abstract purities that had been
buried long before...
The purity of darkness...
The purity of love...
The purity of pain.
The ankh she wore shone
in my eyes and every
breath became easier, more free...
I wished on the stars
in my window that she would stay,
knowing full well that she couldn't.
She embraced me again
and whispered her love in my ear.
She rose slowly from my bed,
and I threw myself from the
restricting covers,
anguished by her impending
departure.
A crystaline tear rolled
down her cheek as
she held my hand tightly.
I stepped closer to her
as a newborn might to
his mother.
She reached for my other
hand and sounded an awkward
little laugh...
(oh, that laugh!)
I held her close to
my body...
(... so close...)
We stared faithfully into
each other's eyes,
I pleaded with her once
more to stay.
She sobbed lightly,
moving her hands
up my back...
(...too close?...)
I reached up to wipe away
a tear, lingering to
etch the texture of her
skin into my mind.
My hand inadvertently
drew her forward, and
she pressed her dear lips
to mine, drawing a long,
hopeful kiss.
She lowered her head,
a silent goodbye,
along with a silent
promise...
In a moment, she had
returned to the golden night
from whence she came...
But to this day,
I never cease dreaming
of her, and I never forget
the life that I found in
Death that night.
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