by: Kate Swanson In a subtle dance of stillness Night reaches out to me With soft skin and tentative hope: Servant and Master embodied In warring velvet flesh Darkened gaze smoldering In tortured eyes Can eternity be lived on the edge Of a knife? Can hope survive love’s Darkest night? If fingers of light entwine With fingers of dark What then do these forces become? Demons together Lovers apart Goodness: perception of the mind Or of the heart? His hand twitches, A desperate beckon. Time looms like the coming fog, Ever closer As dawn touches the sky With orange fingertips What good is goodness Without a heart to guide it? My hand with a will of its own Seeks the taste of darkness The darkness with the pleading eyes Red pain-sharp Insistant I follow the will of my past, my destiny Far from the comfort of the warrior poet I cry in the burning light. Body whole. Heart torn. Goodness intact. For now. |
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