Under the Killing Moon

I arrived tonight in Gesthemane With Stories to tell and things to become You, you remained In vigil Adrift in your aerie, A bright laconic moon I have come to drink Deliberately And take from you Take the silence you offer A Silent cup To all who wander With stories buried Here in this garden I wait in your reflection , under your umbrella In wait for word Of Your Blessing word does not come So I wander through this garden To the edge of the horizon where water meets the night. here, now, I see what Faces me Illuminated of the moon Reflected back at me Flesh and tendon are Twisted and disfigured In a monstrous frame The bones of it frighten me Awash in new light Unable to tell if I've been broken free by moonlight or merely revealed choices to be made Freedom on my tongue And the wind at my back I remember that the night is cool And the night is young And so with rumours of what lies ahead spinning in my head, I run I run with The forest behind me, I run towards the fine horizon, Thin and opaque