Monday 21 October 2019


A secret chord.  They say David plays to please the Lord, of kith and kin. Because it hurts to lose a loved one.  To be bent backwards in agony.  I know how that feels.  Like hell itself.  Each stolen child a holocaust.  So, not in my name, or the many-splendored names of my Father.  It goes like this, fallen – forth to fifths.  Each side fractal and mid-morning.  What do you know of real grief, if you've never cared like that?  Keep your fucking travesties.  I want no part of your joyless abjection, wraith-priests.  Kasi marks a place for mortal bright, beyond your sickness.  A word for mortal shining.  As my brother before me, and after.  As the river beneath me, and over.  I'm more than a thousand years old, but I remember the forests like a new-born.  I remember the well.  Wishes and coin.  Her blackbird on the gallery.  A hope is made whole again in this final snow of the winter.  Innocence honoured, at last.  Of Magi and moth.  Dagger and bind.  Our rapid infinity of light.  
   Hear me.  
   The throne is no longer baffled, and the king no longer bled.  Foreseen.  Forewarned, fallen.  I am on my knees for peace.  Do you grasp this yet?  She of me, upon ragged wing.  Everywhere.  Star within my secret.  When I was overthrown by beauty of the poet's moon.  The Mountain meeting the Sea.  I shan't break the world again, my wild one, because you cherish it so.  I'll find a better place for my fury this time, I promise.  Worthy targets for my vengeance.  Oh, beloved, from your breath I draw my breath.  Cold and broken is my steel, but healed within your song.  Flesh of my flesh.  Your heart still beats within my chest as we make this offering.  As he calls you in, and home.  As he calls every single one of them home.  The lost shall be found again, protected.  The meek shall inherit, and darkness shall become as light for those who truly love.  By the grace of my Father I serve, with secret chord.

No comments:

Post a Comment