The Nighttime (Again)

A Poem

By Chariklia Martalas


I’ll revisit the words of the night

 

(darkness, Moon, serene, frightening)

And in these words find a necessity

       That I gently place in a nest of meaning

All of which I wish for you to believe

                    

                                 (dreams, nightmares, starry skies)

 

This rests on the entangled heap of knotted phrases

         Of all those years of constant murmurings

 

Tell me poets aren’t creatures of habit

                    

                     She walks in beauty, like the night

                                                         (Lord Byron)

 

And tell me you haven’t forgiven us for it

 

         For those words

(night, evening, witching hour)

 

They all capture a truth that is always in repetition

         But not necessarily ever truly over

 

It is the necessity of description

         That becomes as incomprehensible

As the night itself

           The nest of meaning

                     As beautiful and as necessary

As the turn of the day

 

                     The evening beam that smiles

                                             (Lord Byron)