Shasta Among the Tombs
by Jonathan Stefanovic
“There were about twelve Tombs, each
with a low arched doorway that opened into absolute blackness. They
were dotted about in no kind of order, so that it took a long time,
going round this one and going round that one, before you could be sure
you had looked round every side of every tomb. This is what Shasta had
to do. There was nobody there.” — C. S.
Lewis, The Horse and His Boy
Twixt seas of sand, stark barren lands,
Past night’s enshrouding noon.
On fear’s dread shore, he waits forlorn,
By the dim desert tombs.
The blackest hour, hear jackals howl,
To sink faint hearts in gloom.
Hyena's cries, screams prowl him nigh,
The grinning desert tombs.
A lurid light, casts ghouls of fright,
Beneath the waning moon.
A shadow tide, casts him beside,
The crumbling desert tombs.
‘Why does she wait?
Why does she linger?
Why does she tarry
So his hopes fade: true love betrayed,
By the grim desert tombs.
© 2008 Jonathan Stefanovic
Jonathan Stefanovic is an English graduate
student at La Sierra University, CA USA.
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