Member Poem

“The mind trestles the bridge to redemption.”
–Thompson Emate

When night falls,
Sounds come from stalls
piercing through the tranquil night,
We seek for light.

The night awakens the eerie,
The ambience is dark and dreary,
We hear footsteps and see shadows,
The uncanny lurks outside our windows.

A bridge needs crossing when redemption sits on the other side,
From the sinister night we cannot hide,
We prop feeble hope,
Even as the night takes us down a slope.

The night opens its door,
Strangers come out of its store,
We’re not cowed,
Our fears have been floored.

First Published in Poetry Potion.