Daily Whitman

confed-dead-2

Reconciliation

  Word over all, beautiful as the sky,
  Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage must in time be
      utterly lost,
  That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly
      wash again, and ever again, this solid world;
  For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead,
  I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw near,
  Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the coffin.

Posted on 06/02/2015, in literature, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: