Entries Tagged 'Poetry' ↓

Most merciful Allah,

all praise belongs to thee,

thee alone do I worship, 

and from thee alone do I seek help.

 The Christians have returned

and with them war.

Thy great city is clouded with despair.

Thy people shudder,

fearful Jerusalem will be set upon

by the drum of marching men desperate

to despoil thy name.

I fear their purpose.

They come not as friends or followers,

but as usurpers,

pagans seeking to conquer land fertile and rich,

a people old with traditions deeper

than those afar in Rome.

What right say I,

that they should force upon thy children,

upon me and mine,

a belief that is as foreign to us,

as ours is to them?

What right say I,

that they come in judgment,

to malign and disfigure

when they are but worldly children

in the fits of tantrums?

I beg thee great Allah,

make thee signs that I might

know thy wishes,

that I might follow in thy

footsteps and show the

Christians enlightenment.

The outrages of Godfrey lie

heavy upon my heart, upon the

holy lands his emperor claims his own.

Take my hand.

Lead me so I may lead

my brothers and strike them down

in one final battle.

Help me great Allah,

and I will give thee Jerusalem

before the mantle of dawn rises

above the dunes.

Petulant King,

sword sheathed and silent,

time wearies thine restless mind,

turns thy good-nature distant to all

but lands ripe for harvest.

I know thine heart dear husband,

thy lust for Godfrey’s crusades.

Thy seek the booty of campaigns upon

battlefields rich with the blood of

thine enemy, Alexis.

Thou cannot hide it.

I have seen thy moods swing lately,

thy temper shorten,

thy enraged fits and boastful

threats heaped upon those nearest thee.

No treaty will stay thy hand,

no precious promises of peace,

whose boundaries of stone and earth

stand sentinel before thy lustful urges,

can stop thee.

Lo do I hold thee close to my bosom,

wishful that my love can sway thee

and stay thy savagery,

I know it not enough to win thy favor.

Thou will do what thy desire and

take sword in hand once more.

But I beg thee dear King,

think of our son,

thine heir.

Would thou place him perilous

before charging hooves and cursing men,

upon a wild steed wielding mace and blade

in thine honor?

What glory is buried within such folly?

What recompense?

He is but a tender child,

short of years and battle knowledge.

Would thou make me grievous,

despondent,

spiteful over his return

upon limping steed and ruined shield?

Raise thy banner if you must,

seek that which torments thee

and boils thy blood,

but I beg thee dear husband,

spare him,

leave me our son.

Oh noble prince,

if I could but drink once more

of the love

in the depths of thine fathomless eyes…

If I could but lose myself in the

rapture of thine arms

and the gentle whispers

you breathed against my neck…

I might find the strength

to carry on.

But I am weak and lost in the coldness

of loneliness,

wounded by your passing

and mired in the confusion of why

it has come…

Come back to me noble prince,

for cold is the night without you.

My dreams are empty and

I thrash the night

until our bed grows weary of me.

Come home my love,

death need not be a barrier,

it is but a shadow,

a contrivance set upon us.

Swept away by the night breeze,

ragged breaths,

steeped in suffering,

are all that remain of

Hope’s thoughts of

life.

Her mind floats

amid essences of honeysuckles

above arms bent and tucked,

distant of Crazy Bill’s hurt

and pain

and abuse.

All around her

the night is warm

and alive

and full of sounds,

but she feels no caress when a coldness

slides beneath her length.

One good eye flutters

open and caked lashes part

onto a fretting woman

as destitute as she.

“Dear child,

who did this to you?”

The words are emotional,

loving,

words Hope has not heard since the day

Crazy Bill stole her away.

She coughs,

mumbles his name,

then is lost in the woman’s smile.

The kiss is quick.

Incisive.

Invasive.

The lips smooth,

the breath old and fetid.

It is not her mother’s kiss,

yet in the fleeting moment

between life and death,

when life flees and time stops,

Hope understands

and welcomes her birth.

* * * *

Haughty and arrogant,

with words sharper than her teeth,

The woman speaks silently

to Hope again,

“Show me this…

Crazy Bill, you speak of.”

Hand in hand upon the

warm night currents,

they rise

like ghostly

apparitions of doom.

Hope’s thoughts swirl.

She is moving,

soaring,

flying with the night birds

that flee before them.

They settle on the dark side of the road,

beneath a starry summer night,

near the park where Crazy Bill claimed her.

Hope’s eyes fix on Crazy Bill’s house.

“Is that him?”

The woman’s question is not a question,

but a confirmation

of not who,

but what he is.

Hope nods.

Inside the cloistered hell hole,

beyond the dull glow of lights

framing shadeless windows,

his shadow moves,

striding,

malignant.

Hope licks her lips.

and then spits,

expelling a sizzling plume of hatred

that evaporates before it hits ground.

Memories stir,

tortuous moments of when

Crazy Bill kept her hidden,

a thing he played with,

a toy he owned.

She bends to a scratchy noise

lost in the desiccated palms behind her.

A rat scurries into view.

Its nose twitches nervously.

Its ears perk,

but do not detect Hope

or the woman standing beside her.

Hope reaches for it,

but stops when Crazy Bill lurches

onto the porch,

his fat belly soured and stained.

She focuses.

Wicker creaks

and rockers moan.

Light flairs and a raspy sigh

dispels a streamer of blue

white smoke into the darkness,

soiling her night.

She breaths deep,

inhaling his pungent essence.

An unquenchable thirst fills her

when the woman takes her hand.

“Want to meet him again?”

Hope nods again,

and together,

they drift across the road

towards Crazy Bill.

Love’s Lament

Sightless

Breathless

Cold hearts, jilted and soiled,

With souls frosted in shadows,

Awaken!

Rejoice!

And speak not of the chill that binds your spirit,

Or the coldness that has turned your heart,

A new day comes with sparkling new promises.

There is hope, there is joy,

There is love.

Breathe

See