There is nothing in the stars
That does not pass
From your exhalation into
My penitent lungs.
Unrecognized but for ink
I grow into the sheath
Of my incautious fears.
A weapon immobilized,
In a fount of slaughter.
–
Pain comes at the expense
Of life and in the exaltation.
These residuals, these eidolons
Cast into the borders
I haunt among them,
Manacles writhing like
Artificial thunder.
–
I roll myself out
My delirium, my flesh
Assuming your willing indenture.
If only I could forgive myself
As you have done.
Whatever the conditionals
My heart still gallops
Through the fire
Of our suspended rage.
Reconciliations that
May not hold but into which
We invest everything.
We can hope for those reconciliation bit not until we deal with the feelings still brewing. Deffective use of slavery imagery and terminology.
Exactly X and thanks so much!
Effective. ..sorry spell correction got me
Your poems are so intelligent and passionate and deep. Amazing as always, Yves 🙂
Thank you CC that is so sweet of you to say!
I have to go with C.C.’s words–Bravo!
Thank you so very much =)
Most welcome.