Monday Poetry with Melissa Fry Beasley: Night Rests To Breathing

Monday Poetry with Melissa Fry Beasley: Night Rests To Breathing

Poetry for Monday with Melissa Fry Beasley: Night Rests To Breathing

Monday Poetry with Melissa Fry Beasley Night Rests To Breathing

Nótt, the personification of night in Norse mythology, rides her horse in this 19th-century painting by Peter Nicolai Arbo.

Night Rests To Breathing

I sit listening to the dark
notice the moon’s vacant stare
as night rests to breathing all around
Nothing awake but guilt and grief
No movement save my hands on this keyboard
Even the flame of a candle stands still in the air
I am words unsaid, tongues unfurling
a mouthful of lonely
It was you who taught me this language of silence
The slow asphyxiation of truth
as you stole meaning from sound
We sit and waste away like dust in sunbeams
Time passing slow as syrup with one foot in the past
the other in a fruitless future
This is no nostalgic and chagrined recall
but a pause filled recollection left weeping
The water’s surface will be flattened
by the wet feet of clouds,
where wildflowers will soon flourish
upon the plains in pale moonshine
Finding secret things, whispers, murmurs,
whose long making will become the muse of memory once more
Melissa Fry: My roots

Melissa Fry: My roots

View Comments (2)
  • martincid

    Excelent poem as always, Melissa.

  • Sean Biddulph

    Enjoyed reading your poem above Melissa, so I thought to share how it
    found me on this Thursday eve in a south land, bound by sea.

    dark, is like no other open shelter, for silence wakes to walk the
    crooked night sky, to say wait, listen, let my world walk upon you,
    while there you lie between the earth, dust, and stone, as the grasses
    weep a heavy dew, to fall to gravity’s long conversation, an echo, listen, La Nuit’s alive,
    like no moment, but the present, where eyes widen, and the silence,
    it’s full of sounds, no noise, music drifting for hours, whether night
    rests, walks, or stands on the soles of her feet, in the not so still of Nótt


Melissa Fry Beasley is a Humanistic poet of Cherokee origin, who resides in Oklahoma . Through the written and spoken word, she examines the gap between the ideal and the reality involved in living in the world during this time. Her work is both personal and subjective, yet she does not turn aside from the political and social issues of her environment. She is a woman who seeks to express her individual perspective and needs while accepting the diversity involved in questions of gender, race and culture. Melissa believes that change is necessary and deploys her writing to reflect her personal experience in the wider social and political context. You can find her work in print and online in Indian Country Today Media Network, Native News Today, The Native American Encyclopedia, FirstPeople.Us, Working Effectively With Aboriginal People, Churn Magazine, Big River Poetry Review, Enhance Magazine, A&U Magazine, and many others. She has two chapbooks forthcoming. " When I admire the wonders of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in the worship of the creator." Mahatma Gandhi " They won't break me because the desire for freedom, and the freedom of the people, is in my heart. The day will dawn when all the people of will have the desire for freedom to show. It is then that we will see the rising of the moon." Bobby Sands

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