Sanctuary

Nights endlessly
it, stares at me—
huge poplars swaying in the wind
bending down to find
their balance in the sky again;
and clear tributaries joining the main
muddy torrent washing clean
the stones, seen like gems through the murk.

Sanctuary, my love, for a moment in your arms
that alone can charm
away the shades of a lit-up dark
that gives no rest; that start the spark
of a wafting gleam
of mellow colour, seen
and felt vaguely in the mind
as warmth; stopping the ceaseless grind
of thought against thought—
Night never ending
I seek.

—Ralph Unger.