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
Copyright © Tomas Vincent Marra | Year Posted 2016
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