You Presume to Leave ?

A lover awakens and
looking at her love
has forgotten how she loved him
and why.
Opening his sleep filled eyes, her love sees,
looking at her with such affection.
What is it, my heart ?, he says to her, why do you look at me like this ?

Screaming, seven voices
tell her to run
tell her this is impossible.
All she can say, in a voice soft with shame, tenderness, and fear
with eyes soft with sorrow is
I’m not sure
I’m not sure.

Her love is older
her love had seen, tasted, felt.
Looking at her he begins, You are to me as the rising sun is to the dark sky,
as the broad-shouldered breeze that hold aloft the eagle is to this raptor,
as the wafting gust, soft as your touch, is to the majestic oak.

Let me remind you, my love, he continues,
what I bring to you,
what I offer you.
Bella mío, I offer you all I have
all I see
all I’ve tasted
all I know.

My love, I offer you
I offer you all of this because, alma mio,
I offer you the ability to see
what few see, what few wish to see.
I offer you the bruises that comes from walking this path with me
I offer you the bitterness of being without a country
of being Out of Place, rejected
by those who should help
Of a child, drowned, lying on a beach in Turkey
Who was there to hold him as he died ?
I offer you the sight and smell of a building recently burned
a place housing the least among us in which
the stench of charred bodies abounds.
Children, men, women
who you will never know
sacrificed at the alter of greed.
I offer you the confusion of our people
people you know
who stand, blind, silent, idle while
they are stripped of humanity, decency, even
their ability to live
by Rapacious Greed.

My love, I offer you the ability to feel outrage
to smell anger
to taste anguish.
But αγαπη μου, this isn’t enough.
Without my second gift, you will only be embittered.

I offer you love
to temper this anger
I offer you all I have, all I am.

She looked at her love
seven voices…..but really only two:
One gentle, him, repeating: I offer you, my love, what I have
The other, multi-tonal, multi-octave, raging at her:
of the danger she will encounter if she dares to see, dares to taste, dares to smell, dares to feel.
Dares to love.
That voice, all she has known, rages at her, in her.
How dare you !
How dare you step away from normal,
this conformity.

She looks at him, her love
He takes her hand
In the background, Bella Noté begins to play
a favorite
Smiling, tears cascade down his cheeks.

What is the nature of fear, of love ?
Why was Cassandra so reviled ?

In a place no longer known


About teserak1

I am Noman
Gallery | This entry was posted in Now, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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