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Canst thou say when darkness dies
When Heaven under shadow lies?
When I mirror my weaknesses in thee
And in thy heart, which suffers silently,
Whose chambers ache, and bleed on the throne
Of thy godlike tears that kiss my own,
As, by poison idols, our weeping was blessed—
Their empires falling, our sorrows caressed
O’er our assassins who threw their stones
Cursing the sin etched inside of our bones:
The love that could not speak out loud
As, at the gallows, we kiss a sundrenched cloud.

Canst thou say when darkness is no more,
Or if any light is the glow we knew before?
Recall the hour which the bells declared—
Great silver bells by flowers ensnared,
With the diamonds on our brows
As we read the rite of our funeral vows;
When all Heaven in shadow lay hidden
From the love deemed forbidden.

What war of THEIRS has been won,
As we fade with their selfsame sun?
No flames rose when the veil was lifted
As on the wind our last breath drifted
Into twilight, where shadows remain
In the dawning of the pouring night rain,
Blessing the skin of those who die
To leave the form of gods on high.

Blessing the skin of those who die
To leave the form of gods on high.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle