SUNSET
AT NOON
GEORGE MOSES
The rising sun has set
at noon;
The destined sword has
plunged your heart
Your
bold maternal ungushed-sorrow-pent-up heart.
Did your pen in your riven heart
And write a verse across
a sheet.
Unload therein the
weight of words that sorrow parts.
Death! Say Where did you
pilot him and why?
Where did you hide in
that seat in that plane?
Who gave you licence as pilot the third?
Holy Mother of Christ,
even she, you spared her not.
Mark Mary mute at the foot of the cross.
Nailed,
thorned and brutally pierced.
Pray, pray look at the
cross and wipe your tears
For
the noon-set-sun, for the noon-set-son.
Oh, Life is a tragedy, a
Divine tragedy too!