The Fallen

Over the lake, light falling snow,
Gliding down, gilding at gloaming,
Alights on trees, on limbs below,
Concealing dead earth within winter.

Soft snow slips down, covering life;
Slush slides on the lake, slow icing,
Blocking sunlight, blanketing strife;
Under ice life slows, dead to light.

Trees stand like ghosts, great gods of wood,
Moss-bearded, snow tangled, trembling, taught;
Wind blown world, white under snow hood,
White death on branches, dragging down.

Trees crowned in white, silence surrounded,
Snow scorches cold, calm in the waste.
Colourless death, light and life hounded
Out from the earth in falling snowflakes.

Last libations of deadly life,
Snow falls forever; suffocates,
Covering lands, death only rife
In shadowless world, snow suffused.

Silent serpents softly sleeping,
Unemployed gardeners of death,
Their tasks completed, man reaping,
Peace resting under barren trees.

I wrote this in 12th grade when I was worried about nuclear war and fallout. My parents dug it up from somewhere and sent a copy, and I decided I’ll like to preserve it.

It’s somewhat apropos after Fukushima, though I think if I were to write it now it would be about environmental degradation. “Some say the world will end in fire…”


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