Intervention

We put her in the ground today.
It was her destination all along.
Dictated by rebellion, determined by desire.
never realized or fully rendered.
Assisted by the belief in her own invincibility.
Convinced of immortality by her reckless pleasure
with no immediate consequence.
And peers who cheered her on and gave her validation.
While she herself bore the scars and wounds
of those less daring and free.
She bled for the sins of all who witnessed her glorious decline.
Her inevitable demise.
Her happy death.
Those who watched and smiled.
And did nothing...
Nothing to lift her up.

And what were we to do?
Those of us who stood above her today
The cowardly disciples of her self destruction.
Those of us who cry and ache and suffer her departure.
We stand  today with blood dripping from our hands
while crimson pools form at our feet.

My One True Love

When she is gone
then will I cling to you
I will turn to you
and fall apart
And crumble into nothing
Yours to reassemble
Yours to redefine

I will come to you for comfort
And hold you as I held her
I will call her name as I look into your eyes
and beg for your forgiveness of that sin.
Each kiss upon your mouth will be a Judas kiss
With each clutched hand and every passionate embrace
your sense of self will wane, as you become my consolation.

I will drain the life from you, solely selfish sustenance.
All for the sake of another, who you will never be
And wish above all else that you were somehow her
She who stood alone and loved without condition.
For all those things she was to me
You then will take her place
And I will be your newborn child.

Your breath across my neck
recalls her tender touch.
Recalls her sweet perfection in a world too far beneath her.
Your words ring so familiar, still remind me of the lips
from whence they first were spoken.
You will assume that thankless task of washing her away.
while striving to be what she once was.

I am the more to blame for never letting go.
More than you who settles for what is left behind.
Of me and my devotion to a memory just removed..
Acknowledged in advance the sacrifice you make
It is more than I should ask
of a faithful proxy...of a silent surrogate
of my  new and one true love

His War With God

His war with God began that day
when the thing he loved the most was taken
without reason, without purpose
his faith in the Invisible compromised
his pact of allegiance tested beyond its limits
A battle cry of anguish
from a loss too great to bear

There would be no deliverance from a heartless Universe
And there would be no forgiveness
from a servant so thoughtlessly betrayed
His God had drawn the line of loyalty
and love...and in that moment
a new enemy was born with hatred and resentment
of a God who went too far

 Unrelenting sorrow laid upon his shoulders
haunted by young laughter now committed to the grave
echoes of a life so pure and new
innocence extinguished
and snatched from loving arms
a sinless child struck down
by his God who looked away

Now bent on retribution
retaliation in kind
A holy war designed
against His fond creation
a loaded weapon filled with grief and pain
pointed at the head of God
recipient of undeserved adoration

The question oft considered
why pain is heaped upon the head of good men
and mindful servants
to break them , to test them
the answer was too simple
There was no God to blame
All then becomes so clear

His failure to intercede was due to nonexistence
 excuses insufficient for some elaborate design
 a figment of imagination from a being in denial
All misery and darkness must be carried on his own
God's everlasting silence is God's judgment of each man
In the mirror lies salvation, his weapon misdirected
and now turned the other way

A Crooked Tree

I visited the spot where we first met and fell in love.
I noticed that the tree there had grown much larger.
An annoying observation. A crooked tree so large.
Returning even later I resolved to cut it down.
And with an axe I did so.
providing temporary solace.

Gathering the remnants of the trunk and limbs
I carted them away to my backyard.
And whittled them into manageable pieces
placing them together and then lighting a match.
The fire burned for hours leaving only charred remains
and smoke that drifted in the air and burning my eyes.

Later in the week I happened by the spot once more
expecting only modest evidence of my crime.
Instead I met with utter disbelief the self same tree.
The crooked tree renewed. Larger than before.
Its branches and canopy almost filling the sky
stretching out its healthy bough
brushing my face as I surveyed the massive wonder.

I will cut it down again today and as before tend the burning embers.
the cremated corpse of such a large and crooked tree
And as I leave to retrieve my axe, a thought occurs to me.
I will cut it down today...and probably tomorrow...and the day after that.