Tricking the Reaper
The land has many spirits.
They see us; they know us,
better than we know ourselves.
If I see myself through the eyes of Earth,
I will lie still, and spend my last sigh
as a wind drifting through white pines.
In this early morning, when sleep hovers
like so much smoke in corners of my rooms,
dreams are left to stir and breathe in my hands.
I choose the dreams I will keep today.
I dream to see myself, know myself as
polished seeds, moist and fertile in the land.
I am laughter breaking brittle in yellow sunlight,
a slow tongue kiss on the open mouth of love.
I am warm tears to wash away dusts of memory.
When sleep comes to rest heavy on my eyelids,
and the last wind dies silent in old trees,
I dream to touch the face of God, and he smiles.
Shirley Alexander's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(22 March 1941 -)
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