On the long path you walk all alone
with collar unfurled, yet chilled to the bone,
I watched in suspense, though unseen by you,
and traced every step with an unhindered view.
I was the small flower that lighted your way
as the night fell too soon and tempted you stray
Away from your faith, away from your god.
‘Twas I who called as ‘pon the ground you trod
With coattails aflail and pressed to your wake.
‘Twas I who called to you. ‘Twas I who would take.
I was the red scent that captured your hair,
that lifted it wild and named you most fair,
That brought you to bear your perfect request,
with a whispered sigh and the fall of your breast.
Your torment was real, your senses raw,
so I did espy, so too I saw
Your silent stride quite taken to tremor
with irresolution and certain error.
I sensed with my heart your hopes that lay felled,
but felt as well, your desires unquelled.
I knew I could give you all that you wanted,
so on I pressed, completely undaunted,
Becoming the moonlight that peeked through the leaves,
the pregnant breath that pulled at your sleeve.
I was the oft glimmer you spied with one eye
when the wind whipped a limb ‘way from the sky,
Exposing the night to down on you shine,
that pressed me to follow and make you mine,
To take you with ease from your most solemn brow,
to crush all your yesterdays down and bow.
Too, the night settled in without a fear
and told the simple truth to all who’d hear.
Though, not many listen’d and fewer took heed
of my presence, my wishes or my need.
I yearned for the taste of your provender,
and smelled your fear like … sweet lavender.
I could not have stopped when you called out so clear.
I could not have turned and let you pass, my dear.
For was it not so, that lif’d lost its splendor?
Was it not so, that you had to surrender?
O, your heart beat so soundly, I could not ignore,
so caressed your soul to unlock the door,
To hear what I said, to listen to me,
to hear my dark song, my wailing, my plea.
I was the sharp claw that pricked at your ear,
that strangled your throat and struck you to tear
Your eyes from the path and from the good flower,
and tremble to know where you were at that hour,
To sense yourself feasted by my keen sight,
then turn to your back and see … only your fright.
So invisibly I entered your mind,
then touched you gently from behind.
I did say to you then without a word,
a breath, a comfort as you’d never heard.
O blessed trotter, confounded and single,
your heartquake and shivers have me atingle.
For what am I, O ‘way steeling beauty,
without you beneath me, about me, within me?
What am I without the sweat of your flesh
‘pon my tongue, ‘gainst my cheek, at my lash?
All curled close and pressed to your throat so fair,
as my lips, my teeth, and my fallen hair.
Without your rare terror or your pale dread,
I’m too far from being the living dead.
O drink want of love, wont of you, my dear,
quench my thirst and pain, do not fear.
You are safe in my arms, within my fold,
for here only angels will you behold.
Forever and ever, so do not resist,
fall back in my arms and die being kissed.
Copyright 2012 - 2016 David David Kernan. All rights reserved.