In The Night How I Long Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
In The Night How I Long
In the night
how long I
to Hastings go
not just garden
but
the streets
the surrounding streets
the wide ones
the strait, alleys,
the quaint houses
snoring high,
awhile strike
the street asphalt
one after the other
I
hear pace on pace
my paces
distant dogs are
set to bark
but bark not!
enchanted lie
in the spell
nocturnal quite
of a Poet Seer who by
steals his way
his silent way!
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4/28/2024 12:44:29 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Oh, how wonderful! The Poet-Seer, your preeminent persona, makes a cameo appearance. And there is no visible trace of suffering. As I have said before, whatever respite he is given or gives himself is fully deserved, considering his past services and sacrifices. But this poem belongs primarily to its speaker who places HASTINGS GARDEN for us in an urban area, specifically residential, and details of ordinary life abound even at night. This is truly a city park made for citizens' use, not some remote, restricted place. But it has an orphic charm in silencing the dogs who disrupt its peace. And its silence is part of the larger silence of the NIGHT itself.