Unearthing
A maddening lull – then the bells of
hell ring out, beneath this golden hill
pervading hollow places
corralling rapturous peaks and soft plateaus
where hymns of love once serenaded flesh
rising dragging sinking – above below, within
each lyrical movement encompassing
the heart – and the forgotten thing
captive to your voice, this pale flesh cries out
‘enough!’ and is now silent where once it sang:
‘take anything you want – but leave the stones unturned’
and so, the sun takes mountains, like the
widow swallowing the distance between
night and dawn and love and loss
until she is all ablaze with such sweet suffering
and must depart – illuminating and unearthing –
in golden raptures, our requiem of love.