The silence shrouds the dark of night,
the moon lets out a silvery breath.
Crickets sing their song so bright
about the cycle of life and death.
The mist falls over sea and land,
and washs away the dust.
Asleep is now both head and hand,
asleep is hate and lust.
The stars, like lanterns far away
Light a way in midst the blue
So the wind may not wander astray
Through woods of adlemir and yew.
A nightbird lifts it’s wings to flight
Like a ghost rising from the grave
And with its voice calls out the night
As it slowly ends it dark enclave
As a queen the Injèrá claims her home
As the waves wash towards the shore
The stars and moon disappear in foam
Its morning, morning again, once more.
By Lucirina Telor Vevan
