With Feelers On The Head Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

With feelers on the head
Go I
Through the fields
Of night
Through
The roads of dust
Whitened by the
Moon
Go I.

With head
Hung down
And up
With tears
At the heavens
Alternately
Go I.

Lone shepherd that shepherd be
Not
And wants not sheep:
Yet
Round about him
The bleats of the Spirits
Drawl
As sheep around, around
Into that nocturnal desert
Without sound.

Lone solitary man!
Solitary pilgrim
Bent
And aged
And broken down
Yet free
Yet free
When will
The nights be nights
Of sound
The waters gurgled
Loud
Not silent?
The cemeteries not
Filled with sound
Except in ghost processions round?

With feelers on the head
Go I
Through the fields
Of night
Through
The roads of dust
Whitened by the
Moon
Go I.