Black And Bitter Care

A sorrowful man sat by the coffin of the one

Dearest to him, lovely, asleep, her spirit begone.

His hands cradled his mournful and tear-stained face,

As the few walked by, peering at her peaceful grace.

Then passed a company of bright and lovely shapes,

He beheld them most pleasing with mouth agape.

“Who are you, fair ones?” asked the man forlorn,

Whose agony began when she left him yestermorn.

“We are the words you might have spoken to her,”

They each replied and together concurred.

 “Oh stay with me,” the poor man blared,

Enrapt with black and bitter care.

“Your sweet looks are as knives to my heart,

“Yet I would keep you all through my journey dark.

“My beloved is cold and deaf and I so alone,

“Abide with me,” he again pled and tearfully moaned.

“Nay, we cannot stay for we have no being,

“But are only as a light that never beamed.”

And they passed on from him and room so bare,

The wretched man sat in black and bitter care.

And as he sat again he saw another vision rearing,

Sounds from pale and terrible forms he kept hearing,

So dreadful and frightful was their mien,

The man shuddered and silently screamed.

“What are you, dreadful ones?” as he slowly withdrew,

“We are the words she ever heard from you.

“Depart from me, leave me with my dead!

“Better alone in solitude than with you instead.”

Not a word or a sound uttered from the dreadful ones,

As they gathered ‘round him, his just rewards won.

And they stayed with him evermore stark and stare,

Eternally attendant to the man in black and bitter care.

By Larry Troxel