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Solar

May 16, 2013

fiftyeight

If the rain floods the land.
I will build us a boat from a yew.
And if the Gods scorch the earth.
I will crawl over glass and black sand to embrace you.
If the Devil may take you, one day, for his bride.
And place his red mark in your hand.
I will sell him my soul to return you.
And if nuclear winter should fall across the face of the globe.
And darkness take us all for its children.
I will wrap us in rags and murder all hope.
That you should live without fear of tomorrow.
In my arms.
And if the wind should steal your breath.
Sing it to Judas.
Offer it to Death.
To blow across the trembling string.
Of his chaotic violin chorus.
I will cast it before us.
And bare its hatred on my breast.
I will kiss your shivering lips.
And breathe life back into your chest.

And if you’re always afraid.
I’ll be brave for us both.
When you’re weak.

And if you’re always so tired.
I’ll watch over the fire.
Whilst you sleep.

Though I’ve called for her at dusk.
Since that night when I wept.
Alone, for the first time.
Then no longer a child.
Her red hair and those wings.
By God, those wings on her back.
That have beaten me, in time, to this shard of a man.
Who screams out her name from the depth of a nightmare.
Begs for her hand from the pit of the stomach.
In you, I found life.
In the short time that I held you.
Had you, perhaps, though I don’t relish the phrase.
The coal, once more.
Burned and cracked at its core.
And the road no longer ran beyond the horizon.
The dawn was my Mother.
I loved her.
Before.
Now you’re gone.
Amen.

The memory of you is a familiar poison.
As red as blood and the fire in her hair.
Sun will rise.
Dog will hunt.
Keep entreating.
Drink the fire and one day she’ll be there.

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From → Poetry

One Comment
  1. Renard Moreau permalink

    [ Smiles ] A lovely poem!

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