Within The Soft Night's Warm Embrace Poem by Richard Trembath

Within The Soft Night's Warm Embrace



Hid by woman’s precious arc
there lurks the dreaded spectre dark
and waits to strike where ego lies,
the arc for which the newborn cries.

‘Tis not her being, nor her soul
and yet it is what makes her whole,
which fears the swift and healing blade
that elsewhere sees her unafraid.

She rises up, hark! hear her voice:
‘Be strong, ye faithful, and rejoice!
The choice is ours and we, as one,
choose life and do what must be done.

Repel the Reaper! Strike the foe!
Cry loud: ‘Tis not my turn to go! ’
Then reassume thy former grace
within the soft night’s warm embrace.

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Richard Trembath

Richard Trembath

Richmond, Victoria, Australia
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