The earth in summer
loves nothing as she loves the night sky;
and though that dark beauty presses skin-close,
stretched out upon the length of her for hours at a time beneath the moon,
here is the harsh truth:
she can never really have her--
not now,
and not ever.
The warm earth waits until her bones go cold,
and the moon adorns the night sky's river shore hair with years of waiting;
they manifest as ashes, silvering the black.
Such unrequited longing has a name, and its name is
Night Sky With Ashes.
The bone-earth waits,
holding white lilies for her lover and herself,
in a kind of hopeless dawn known best to those
who will never have their heart's desire--
not now, though her bloodbeat slows, dying, because of it,
and not ever.
Wed Mar 06, 2013 1:47 am
CindyT
Joined: 09 Nov 2012
Posts: 159
Location: Florida
Cookie, I just love the earth/nature as metaphor. And this part screws my heart. I love your writing.
___________________________________________________________
here is the harsh truth:
she can never really have her--
not now,
and not ever.
___________________________________________________________
By the way, I've a new story in the story section " I Got My Stick " Would love to know what you think and if it made you feel... anything.
Cindy T
Wed Mar 06, 2013 11:29 pm
CindyT
Joined: 09 Nov 2012
Posts: 159
Location: Florida
Cookie.... just re-visited this one of yours and got something more... I see her now
she is many. she is me..... the black gone now to all silver
on the inside too.... there has not been a single one through all the years
not a single one....
Do we choose to love? Do we choose to allow ourselves to be loved?
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