Tuesday, 21 July 2015


I heard the birds moaning like it was a funeral,
as if a loved one had died
I heard the insects croaking,
hidden in the grass, behind the trees
and who knows where!—
It was a loud, discordant noise;
yes, the night was theirs, and I was an intruder!

have you ever been outside at night
and heard noises you wouldn't otherwise hear during the day?
It's as if the world doesn't belong to us,
as if the real owners of it wake up at night
to claim what's rightfully theirs;
as if the day has died
and the night has awakened
to haunt the living;
we don't belong there—
oh, the night has a voice!
listen to it mourn!

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