In the space between love and sleep
when heart mourns in its prison
eyes against shoulder keep
their blood-black curtains tight.
Body rolls back like a stone, and risen
spirit walks to Easter light;
away from its tomb of bone,
away from the guardian tents
of eyesight, walking alone
to unbearable light with angelic
gestures. The fallen instruments
of its passion lie in the relic
darkness of sleep and love.
And heart from its prison cries
to the spirit walking above:
'I was with you in agony.
Remember your promise of paradise,'
and hammers and hammers, 'remember me.'
Gwen Harwood's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Triste, Triste by Gwen Harwood )
- True Poetry Is Like A Rose, Denis Martindale
- Lovely butterflies Fly by, See I, Harindhar Reddy
- Believe and trust, hasmukh amathalal
- The Dumb Honest Judges, julius lenjatin
- Alluring Beauty with Thorns (A Lovely Ro.., Harindhar Reddy
- Stars Studded the Sky (cinquain), Harindhar Reddy
- Waltz of a Dream, Nathalie Handal
- La Movida, Nathalie Handal
- Scary and Nightmarey Ghost Walked, Harindhar Reddy
- I give You the Love of Calla-lily, Harindhar Reddy
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