When The Heavens Mourn Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

When the heavens mourn
The wind is not a gale
But neighs its heart
In the general orchestra of sadness
Nor thunder flashes loud
But low and humming
Mixes with the drizzling rain
The village sleeps
The village dreams
The cemetery in the cold
But not snow as yet
As yet
Mother o my mother!
A skeleton and bones
Tremble in the withering
Cold in the numb coffin:
The village sleeps
The village dreams
The cemetery in the cold
But not snow as yet
The coma of the moon
The ecstasy of the night
In beauty paralysis
And ghosts
And shrouds
Moving restless
Restless
Restless lamenting
Carrying with them their familiar
Shroud:
The village sleeps
The village dreams
The cemetery in the cold
But not snow as yet
The heart speaks soft and sad
The breath on the panes
The cold climbs walls and
Chimneys vibrate frost:
The village sleeps
The village dreams
The cemetery in the cold
But not snow as yet
O mother my mother
I saw tears in your eyes
And they not liquid
Were
But crystals: chill or
Time the master’s hand?
In the chill
The putrefaction dwindles
Dwindles as the day
The dawn the sun
O mother my mother
I saw tears in your eyes
And they not liquid
Were