I Could Not Sing

I faced eternal dark and cold, and horror,

Because the silence choked my song. I did

Not know a force could do that. Shriveled chords

Would die in grief, and none could bid

My lyre or lips to rise. And so I went,

To beg a dint of pity from a stone.

The dog, the ferry, shades of men… I bent

My face away. A man with flesh on bone

Should not have seen. I went below, below.

At last I saw the great pale god, his throne,

His stare. I begged in song. He granted, though

I could not trust. My eyes defied, I saw,

I looked away, and when I looked again—gone.