A Battle

There’s a place to which I journey,

When the desert is inside me.

It’s a place of many wonders-

So much joy and thunder-

That I am consumed.

It’s a place where those who wander,

Meet, embrace inner sight, and ponder,

What means much more to them,

Then any to enter that glen.

It’s sight, poet’s wonder.

It’s a magic poison infecting

Every fiber of my being.

A broken open tear wound,

Cowering at every sound,

And begging for silence.

A majestic inhabitation cries out,

For me to ascend, and shouts,

Screams, begs for sight,

Razor sharp against a night,

And mourns the dark.

It pummels inside my brain,

Beating my mournful refrain,

Terrorizing what sadness I hold,

And forcing me back to the fold,

While my lips linger.

The reversed smile of poisoned peace,

Holds within desire to be pleased,

At every moment borne,

But by my struggle it is shorn,

And I weep.

Tears,

Silence.

And I weep

Of time that has poisoned my inside,

And tempted to discourage sight.

Begging for every moment to evade

The dark that threatens to invade.

I beg for more grace

That He bestows in suffering

To bestow peace, love in everything,
The antidote to the harrowing wounds,

That utter the sounds of his hell-hounds.

I hold my head up,

And offer my heart in humble contemplation,

Remember the “Yes” of the Annunciation.

I collapse to beg for His Own Strength,
Whose Heart burns up the Love it sang.

I take up my cross,

The insignificant suffering of one,

Who never had a real wounds,

Who was injured at the simplest dart,

Who felt every pierce to the heart.

I hope He finds

My humble contemplation of His Love,

An approach to the grace of those above,

That He may find in His Heart not to scorn

The torn, unable, move of one who mourned.

I am consumed

And lost in a hope and night,

That obliterates all sight,

And I plead myself to elope,

To weep, To love, and To Hope.