Never Destitute

In the darkest final hours, I began to write And my words once spoken new from scattered ashes light the sky To begin and end each day caught up in beauty’s distant wake All loneliness filled by pages lined with happiness and joy My fate betrothed, once mistress scorned —a lover more than wife Whose vision so much sharper, her dissection cuts through bone To slay the muted dragon’s fire in present tense delight Beyond all past and future clouds above the darkening storm To mate each breath and gifted word that heaven sends unwed Never destitute in blessings shown —or in things I wish I’d said (Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)