Aphelion Issue 241, Volume 23
July 2019
 
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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
Coming hither?'

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.

Find more by Jonathan Stefanovic in the Author Index.

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