by Jake Murray01 Feb 2015
I approach the stones of your palace
in silence, each step a promise of lightness
I have purified myself for you. In the passage
of days I have defiled you in body and spirit,
anger and hatred,
all the time crying out your name. But now I come
in velvet reverence, hoping for the touch
of your soul,
your sanctity. I seek forgiveness. I come to give
you love. I am ready to stand before you,
a soul stripped of memory, ready to bow
before you, to suffer the reproach
of your face.
Bless me. Let all that stands between us
fall away. Let me be your consort again.
Let us be one.
She moves across him, her pale arms
white against the red of his skin. His arms
are broken. His wounded limbs lie
glistening in a sun that is a darkness.
Torch-light shimmers on her face.
She has no words. He is crying, freshly
lifted from the iron tomb, the deep cut
of his betrayal squeezing blood from
his soul. Like the moon, she looks down
on him, lonely, grieving for the pain
that has sent her weeping into the streets,
crying out to find the way. His weapons are
broken. But the whisper of her words, the
song of her prayer, the fierce pyre of her desire,
brings his heart to the halo of day.
By the deep river, rising and falling like
the breathing dream he stands, offering
his hands to the sky.
Bird wings beat in
the setting sun. Barges yawn as night falls,
languid in the water. The long day is done.
His father is gone. Deep beneath the earth
he rules his kingdom. His mother weeps
by the water.
The brother's betrayal is
remembered like a curse, a dark story
sang across the land.
It is his turn. His
coming to avenge the hurt, heal the wound,
restore the sun.
His prayers cease. He
stands by the river. Clouds pass. Night
The pale moon, suspended, mourns
silently. He watches its tears fall. Stillness