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Midnight Sun
What does the sun do at night
But sit in silence, in sorrow,
Waiting for her blinding sight
Seen by those, all those, tomorrow?
But tomorrow seems too far to bear,
She weeps, she grieves, without alation.
With graying golden hairs, she cries with a deep despair:
“No way out, the tribulation!”
Why does the sun, the wise Divine,
Think mortal thoughts in a fixate
Of only now? For now, future lacks define,
Intensely blinded by her own damned fate.
In her darkness, she is no longer
The goddess who shines, but becomes
Me and you and he and she. With a hunger
For happiness impulsively driving, destroying all her doldrums.
But soon her eye will raise the sky
And lonely thoughts begin to fade.
For endless shadow-boxing now at rest,
Now the morning birds can nest.
- Lauren Glogoff (BU ‘24)
Weary Sun
Photo by Lauren Glogoff