In the Sunset –A Poem
She found him in the sunset
After all was said and done.
After all the roughness in the land
Had been smoothed out by his gun.
She found him in the sunset,
After watching for a time
As her stoic hero’s silhouette
Whimpered in the shine.
Bright the sun that held him close.
And tired her sun-drunk eyes
As she pieced together drowned out glimpses
Of her hero against the sky.
She followed like a child the form
In whose figure was contained
The secret of the tale in which
Her desert wild was justly tamed.
She came up from behind him slow,
As does yesterday to the mind
Of sorry men who cannot leave
Its love or terror far behind.
But when he turned to face her,
And she saw his milky eyes,
She wept and silent trembled,
At her hero’s sightless guise.
His face was raw and red and torn.
His hair was grey and wild.
A hunched and hapless beggar
Whom the harsh world had beguiled.
He wore the sunset like a mask,
That had by painful growth appeared
And stained his late and handsome face
As soon as he from sight was cleared.
She asked after her hero’s name.
Her hero, silent, bowed his head.
And when she saw him weeping thus,
She walked in sorrow home and said:
“I found him in the sunset
Where he had been undone
By all the roughness in our hearts
And the barrel of his gun.
I found him in the sunset
Where he had been made blind,
And where he lives within the
Darkness of his lonely mind.
I found him in the sunset,
Where naught at all was right,
And what I found I lost unto
The cold and falling night.”
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