Late at Night

Late at night I lay awake,
Hearing in my spirit’s ache
Voices I had erased away
In the bright forgiving day.

Through the hours of truth I heard
Like the driven fever-bird
Flinging out its cries of three
Every voice accusing me.

Till I cried out in my fear:
Here I am, and you are here.
You can halt my heart, I know.
Do it then and let me go.

But the voices, soft somehow,
Whispered to my spirit now:
Live you must, for we must too
And we have no home but you.

-Vikram Seth