lullay

here, at the end of a day
which seemed too much
in many ways
and not enough in others,
i will walk
down to the water alone

i will watch the setting sun
pour fire along the river,
putting aside all questions and sorrow
and world-weariness,
for they will keep,
and just breathe in
the calm sweet certainty
of that glory

i will hang my tired heart
among the rushes
and let the gentle touch
of light and water
and willow-song
make me strong again,
so i can carry
the heavy little thing
back home

and so to sleep,
and dream some better story
than my own,
to take into tomorrow
to hold up to the pain
and show me how to stay