Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HERETIC, by MARJORIE LEICHNER



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THE HERETIC, by            
First Line: Drifting and stumbling through the rain-drenched night
Last Line: On his slab of granite: peace is for the dead.
Subject(s): Night; Sleep; Bedtime


Drifting and stumbling through the rain-drenched night,
He seeks the sun in vain. Stabbing the dark
With firm fingers, hailing the distant day
That beckons, tantalizes, out of reach,
He gropes in the black alone, He knocks; all doors
Remain unopened, bolted, locked against
The dismal rover of the night who seeks
The first red streaks of dawn and fails to find
Even one pale cold star to light his way.
The night-wind sighs, the storm-wind threatens, roads
Are filled with rocks and mud. The fallen trees
Are mountain-crests stretching along the path,
Pointing skyward, hiding the great red dawn
From his dim straining eyes. The failing feet
Falter and now at last must stop. He lies
Among the shadows in the road and knows
That when he dies and, useless, is remade
To dust, forgot, skeptical ones will follow
Whither he led. He rests his head and smiles
On his slab of granite: peace is for the dead.





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