A drive,
Blurry lights pass fast.
Goodbye,
To future and the past.
You left a note,
In dust it lies, forgotten.
In it, you wrote,
Each thought you’ve ever gotten.
They barely filled a single page.
Aborted words
For freedom, misbegotten;
The more they went unheard,
The heavier they’d gotten.
No matter. The pathetic page—
It makes for them a fitting cage.
A try,
Hardly a thing to mock.
But why
[…]
* * *
Burn
Gently, slowly,
Lest you go out.
Burn
Oh ember, lowly,
I’ll stick about.
You smolder, sweetly,
Warm my hand—
I’ll tend you neatly,
I’ll understand.
Burn
Fiercely, strongly,
Within and without.
Burn
Oh heart, so lonely,
Don't flicker out.
You flare so brightly,
But wear so thin.
I’ll follow lightly,
Through ash and sin.
Burn
Cruelly, wholly,
No path untried.
Burn
Oh world, unholy,
Be purified.
All you called sacred,
All you profaned—
I raze in silence.
I curse your name.
* * *
They met beneath a nervous sky.
A busy street- yet pause within;
He stood, she stood, eye clear to eye;
And something brittle in-between.
A town vulnerable. Luck:
The royal guard is pulling up—
All dressed in rags, in sullied gilt.
Beneath the wall the camp was built,
Where soldiers sat in airs of guilt.
A remnant running from defeat.
The royal capital a’razed.
Yet duty pulled them to their feet.
If only so to save their face.
And sweeten shame. Thus here they based.
Their presence brought them peace,
and pride,
though both uneasy as they were
a refuge for dishonored knight,
and something just as much for her.
Amidst the times, amidst the conflict,
Amidst the empire’s final sighs,
They stood so, two of them, unspoken
With history behind the eyes.
Her [uncle], [duke], was not uncaring.
But mired in duties of his own,
Made his appeal to captain, daring
To show up at his niece’s door.
[And though reserved at first]
With little else he could decide,
His spirit longing for a purpose,
And a connection worth his sight,
He chose to [honor given promise].
Herself, she also had been told,
To come, and reason to but little -
Let it all go as it shall go.
‘rhaps for that much she’d be forgiven.
The moment of a hopeful start,
Turned to a courteous withdrawal.
Yet still, she kept an open heart,
And looking down, soft gaze controlled,
She gave her palm for him to hold.
He held it in his own a moment,
Her fingers gentle both and scuffed.
A golden band also adorned it.
And in that weight, a beauty loved.
Beyond the courtesy extended,
Beyond the gentleness of soul,
Beyond, so slightly, heartstrings trembling,
There was a gloom and brewing storm.
They spent the day, and then another.
And learned each other a great deal.
About her husband, and her father.
About his oath to regent queen.
He had a company to bear,
Despite their silent resignation.
He held a wound that none may share.
Yet in persistence, dedication.
She had a garden in her care,
A place of memories and grace.
It was most beautiful and fair,
With none allowed to see the place.
And he respected that commitment,
Yet also longed to be a guest.
And on the last day - as both sensed it,
She said: “tomorrow, maybe, yes.”
A stormy cloud brewed above,
As they strolled far beyond the city.
As they walked back, the rain, it fell;
What’s once a stream, now swirled and swelled.
They could have walked away together,
And seen a life away from all.
But both had something in the city,
And he would wade there for them both.
She climbed his back, and held his neck,
And rolled her dress upon her legs.
Despite the cold, the wind, the storm,
They laughed along as on he pressed.
And she relaxed her slender neck.
And let it fall upon his shoulder.
She held him tighter as he went.
And her stained dress touched dirty water.
That evening in the warmth they’d eat.
He moved in closer, but she ceased.
And gazing gently at her feet,
Placed hands so softly on her knees.
He moved back too, he too remembered.
And so they sat, in warmth and tender.
Until the morrow - evening ended.
[...]
Tomorrow came, to noise and panic.
Through streets the people streamed along,
A rag was caught upon a branch.
Who knows to whom it may belong.
And he too stood, beyond the wall.
His retinue had gained the honor.
To die in doing what they owed-
In doing so, their duty over.
‘Twas merely a scout force,
They saw the city ripe for taking,
And as the fighters bravely fought,
A morning's work, their whole unmaking.
There was of course his final stand,
His mind was pained in his unknowing.
Yet now he knew her as himself,
That she remained, it was for certain.
How could he fall while others stood?
And leave her there alone defenseless?
Each time he rose, he burned his all,
His pain, his body, and its memories.
The city stood, yet people left.
And in there, maybe was a garden,
And maybe an encrusted armor,
And maybe even something else.
* * *