The Scent of Grief

By

Don’t die, for the lingering sigh,
In harmony, of shadows old.

As I saw your face, of white,
With folds, of skin, among iron,
Death had painted Hell, on a frown,
For my nose, to cling, to its scent.

What would Heaven offer, if Death denied her form?
God, who stalks the bramble, of empty skies.

I am loth, in beginning to toil,
In merciless, unfurling of grief.

You had hair, which tossed beneath, your eyes,
A frail face, of listless beauty, drowned by sorrow.

Where spiders crawl, on a grave,
And snakes, devour a carcass,
In your arms, I knew of Love.
In my soul, I knew of Hatred.

I gave God, his desired Beauty.
Where salvation, would bring, an eternity.
Though the rivers, were formless,
My tears streamed, in endless currents.

Next to my beloved, who lays mangled,
I notice an arm, which clings to your heart,
That heart, which lays bare,
A heart of love, not shared.