The Last Battle

"So," said Peter, "night falls on Narnia. What, Lucy! You're not crying?"
"Don't try to stop me, Peter," said Lucy, "I am sure Aslan would not. I am sure it is not wrong to mourn for Narnia. Think of all that is dead and frozen behind that door."

C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

The earth split like a fallen man's skull,
and the burning skies painted every river red.
Everything ended. Stars crashed to the earth
and lay in the grass smoldering,
weeping, mourning their extinguished children.

Embers. Dawn. A door in the air.
We are all blood and dirt. Through the gate,
only silence. If it is teeth and ice
it cannot be worse than this day.
I step through.

photograph by flickr user la fata matta


Mr. Apron said...

I watched the funerals for the four slain Oakland, California police officers on a streaming web-cast on Friday, and lots of poems were read by police officials and governmental talking heads.

They were awful: the speakers and the poems. The speakers were mechanical and uncomfortable, the poems were trite and forced.

This poem should have been read instead.

Kate Horowitz said...

Those occasions are so difficult. I can't imagine being articulate myself at the funeral of someone I care about.

But yeah, they do tend to choose some strange poetry.

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