by Fenton Johnson
I.
The moon came out of depth
And cried, "Art thou alone?
For I can feel thy grief,
Poor earth-fed soul, unknown
To those around thy hearth;
The frost-winds moan for thee,
The salt tears fill the sea;
Thy blood is on the reef;
Thy heart is weighed with grief.
Like thee, I am Alone."
Last updated September 21, 2022