One Candle
Her crimson heart blanches,
broken, her soul aches
never to numb her loss.
When songbirds silently retreat
to tallest treetops, shaken
she lights her solitary restlessness.
On the windowsill, it flickers and flirts
with dusk's sifted air.
Constant burning, I could never imagine this
insatiable, impatient yearning -
for one candle to beacon to one more chance.
She falls, spills over, slumps
into ebony night -
she, steadfast, stifles sobs performing
like in a Shakespearean play,
pretending to want for rise of day.
And I wonder why
does her lone candle shine
for him? Who deserves her heart sworn
to love despite a deceptive guise -
no intent to return, only rumors of his lies?
And I wonder why
I feel a kinship with her shadows,
(not yet hopeless or ready to resign),
they swing, lilting light,
lifting prayers into angelic paths
beyond, and I wonder.
Her blanched heart,
broken soul aches,
and I, a passerby,
wonder why I bleed her loss
and still feel the warmth of her candle.
written 2/15/17
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