Letting You In

There's a secluded thunder in your eyes,

my love, a suppressed resistance

to the order of all things, a threat to light

the matchstick of a Word

thrown like a dagger at this heart

bristling terrified in my throat and chest,

because you can be predicted

only insofar as I myself am predictable,

aligned, repentant. What if I stray

too far from the beaten Path, and howl?

What then would you say to me?

Would I see a fork

of lightning flash, and slash me

down in an instant, and the wicked clouds

groan out their approval at my death?

or, rather, the weeping of Light

out of a darkened Sky,

the liquid conundrum

of our hatred for each other,

fostered like a child,

but long ago we were divorced

from true reunion, and the possibility

of it ever being resurrected, well,

that is between us now,

so what do you say?

Can the fire be beaten

to death, but still retained

for its use for us, useful

for warmth and trust?

Can the sword be sharpened and readied

without my having to fear

for my very life to end

in my sleep, when you are awake

downstairs, and brooding

on the presence in our hearts.

We are somehow the same, my love,

but all the while I love you,

I swear so many oaths to cut you down,

we should be hung

and holding hands beneath the Stars,

and though we cannot see them, nay,

I do believe they'll come with Time,

when the Sky is finally flushed and cleared away,

and the ominous reminders of our lives

be utterly ignored, lost

out of our sight, out

of our minds.



after Letting You In