As taut breezes whip on a chilled evening,
I find her standing upright---relentless firm
murmuring vexedly which drain all exchanges
beyond amity. My warm glances try to uncover
how the pain of disorder all began :
Yet how unbending, even obstinate her will,
all those grates of words so stern that I and kin
endure the torment of our lacerated feelings:
O dear sister, it is hard to reconcile
your two opposing worlds--
the quarrel of your manic storms at its peak
while tangy air twirls outside the garden
like a hearth's need for clarity…we keep
our tones hushed and wait, wait until
a clear energy releases this implacable mind
from blinding yet another evening of reality:
Twilight draws near…she slips into oblivion,
peaceful, not knowing this part
of her masked entity holds her enslaved..again.
7/20/2019
John Hamilton’s Intransigence Contest
Categories:
vexedly, conflict, identity,
Form: Free verse