The Poetry of World War IV - 10

The Poetry of World War IV - 10
Christopher Bogart

3.
Behold, a black horse.
His rider advances him forth,
And halts.
On his breast,
A mirror catches light
Reflecting back
For those who dare to see:
The mirrored images,
Fixed by distortion of time,
Pass on and on
In an endless history –
Backwards.
The mirror frosts
With the chill of numbing pity:
Gone – an adolescence,
Tanned and strong,
Gone to intellect
And tame pursuits.
The Boy looks back
With yearning and remorse
As time,
Through crumbling passages,
Still shoots.