The Watcher
She looks down
Broodingly
On you
In your stark prison cell
And I so far from
Home
Look up at her
She looks down
On each child
Alone in a loveless dorm
She looks down
On hungry homeless
Refugee
And every bombed-out
Empty hollow hulk
Of building everywhere
Everywhere her soft light
Touches suffering below:
How does her silver heart
Not waver?
She looks down
Through dark and
Sighs
Comfort she offers
Is in light
And constancy
And reliability
Silently whispering
“I’m here; I see, I witness, I know”
When separated
Aching souls
All look up
There is comfort
They see:
Her –
Waxing, full, eclipsing, waning, and new –
At the same time
The Watcher and the Watched