Black Goodness

The Black goodness
of this night sky
overall spangled
with milky drops
breathes Heaven’s fire
into my eyes
and stretches low
from tree branched
bare horizon
to horizon of bare
tree branches

A sickle moon
scythe-like minaret
lit by a gone
winter sun
touches me not
touches not me
though every free
thought is tinted
with a tinge of sorrow
for lost patriots

And she, my
beautiful she
inside is couched
inside this house
of which I am
the lower mannish part
she sits and waits
for a Christmas embrace
and love, love
is what she emanates

“The buildings stand in a circle
and pray.” she says

The black goodness
Of this long night
Split by twin rays
Of man-made starlight
Haunts my dreams
And day-lit hours
With songs of courage
And January flowers