3 poems written for a girl named...well, Angel. |
ANGEL by Peter Alistair I. I no longer can stand being near her. No longer can I stand under the majesty, the tyranny of her unfathomable eyes; No longer can I bleed for the silent incisions of her touch; No longer can I lay dreaming, lulled as I am, by each falling note of her laughter; No longer can I stand waiting for every beckoning of her hair’s sweet scent. I no longer can stand being near her but to be near her is all I have ever stood for. II. She calls at me and say, “Be close!” yet she pulls away the moment i draw near. She hangs me then onto a perilous balance (tipped so easily only by the winds of her whim) and leaves me be. I struggle forever to dislodge myself but only do so bruised, wounded, and broken. Limping, I start to walk away. But she calls at me and say, “Be close!” and without a word, I turn back. (In spite of myself, I almost smile.) I dust myself off only and for her once more I am ready. III. She has burned onto my heart an indelible mark of longing. Without regard for anything nor anyone, my heart sounded her name across the eternal; across a field of stars across the night. Yet its echoes, I fear, shall eventually find my bones, my sinew, and there reverberate; and there end me. |