Brightly, Blindly. Heart’s Gold

Mother said, “Do not Dance for His sake.”

Forsaken? Seared by Flames.

Whipped to frenzy, Passion flares awake

And dreaming without shame.

Daughter said, “Mother, the Dance? My own.”

In this, She found her Soul

Filling while full, embers deep, did glow

Brightly, blindly. Heart’s gold.

Stars above, performed the slowest Dance.

Thorn-pierced tongue touched clenched Rose

Water. She flowed, thus, knew Him entranced.

Shaming Stars. Fits and throes.

For all these Years, she had heard His strings

Strumming, He wouldn’t speak.

Words? Unneeded. Strumming fingers sing

Songs. Love. She feared to seek.

© All rights reserved, 2016.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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