There is nothing to be afraid of,
it is only the wind
changing to the east, it is only
your father the thunder
your mother the rain
In this country of water
with its beige moon damp as a mushroom,
its drowned stumps and long birds
that swim, where the moss grows
on all sides of the trees
and your shadow is not your shadow
but your reflection,
your true parents disappear
when the curtain covers your door.
We are the others,
the ones from under the lake
who stand silently beside your bed
with our heads of darkness.
We have come to cover you
with red wool,
with our tears and distant whipers.
You rock in the rain's arms
the chilly ark of your sleep,
while we wait, your night
father and mother
with our cold hands and dead flashlight,
knowing we are only
the wavering shadows thrown
by one candle, in this echo
you will hear twenty years later.
Margaret Atwood's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Night Poem by Margaret Atwood )
Did you read them?
- The kingdom, gajanan mishra
- The Headland Wreck, David Lewis Paget
- THE MIND OF POET, kashif khan
- Spiritually Bound, Michael McParland
- Sky is red, Aftab Alam
- Musings., Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
- TRUST, maharshi trivedi
- Alone in December, James Anthony Creamer
- Mind Albums, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- A Nerd's Way of Thinking, James Anthony Creamer
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Heather Burns
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 September 1907 – 3 September 1963)