Dedicated to Those Who Have Known the Loss of Love
Some nights it seems the best I can do
Is fall into bed exhausted,
Wick of the candle extinguished,
Hoping that if there is a god,
That god might hear my tears as prayer.
In morning light, I rise…
Stick my arms through sleeves
While the body seems like a scarecrow’s,
Straw falling from ripped seams,
Legs broken along with dreams.
All that is holy has been lost.
Whatever wind blows
Lashes against vacant, burning eyes.
Birds arrive to swallow worms,
Morning songs unsung, forgotten,
For love has fled into the dark.
All that is holy has burned to ash.
Such days, I have no lips for praise.
Warriors storm into every
Cave of solitude and serenity flees
Across a cloudless ocean.
All that is holy has been brutalized.
Blackness and fear cover my face.
The absurd is absolute, dancing upon the stage.
The world seems flat and unredeemed,
Beauty crushed beneath the boot.
All that is holy has been smashed again.