Free Verse # 418 (my poem comes nearest to her)

Her fragrance
is a knife
held to my neck,
however I move
I am gone…


Her silence weakened me
and I hated it until I learned
it was the only force capable
of revealing me to my bones,
shaking open my truth
on the altar of the world.


Let us kiss
until nothing of us remains
except the light
of the first star


Rain falling at dawn,
I am awake
writing shattered notes
to an unknown lover


I am waiting for you
on the other side of silence,
covered in dew
and holding out
the scarlet fire of my heart.


Aux moments silencieux
je retrouve mon destin,
fleur couleur du vent,
fraicheur de l’aube,
les yeux de mon bien-aimée
lumière du monde.


My poem is a painting
in which her soul is blushing;
my poem is an attempt
to touch her light
with shivering fingers
and an aching soul;
my poem comes nearest to her
when it is silent.

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