A Stray of Ezekiel
----oo0oo----
I saw him and knew what he was
by the wounds on his back
dried blood and white feathers.
His language had a mysterious
familiarity as the sea
heard from the spiraling of a shell
not Icarus, but a real sacred
creature of Ezekiel.
I nursed this thing with my own
concoctions, a blend of heat, and
tears from my body, also whispered
soft cooing as to a wounded bird,
the smoke from our skins, gliding
in measured restraints, until
golden crests of lights seep through
from our eyelids, until his wings
formed magnificent once more.
And with a shout of triumph
he flew. I watched breathless
suffused with joy, to be witness
and instrumental to such flight.
He came back to me then.
The wind is in pieces, blank sheets
with colour. Sliced by the flapping
of his wings. I pity and envy
those who don't feel this love.
He will never be truly mine, but
I cannot relinquish the touch of divine.
So one night of sleeping feathers
I lay over his peaceful, dozing form,
sipped his moans, so he could keep
his dreams and not waken
from my rocking sighs.
Then I took the very essence
that gave him flight.
The moment he opened his eyes
and saw me, he knew from my glow
That I have wings.
----oo0oo----
Tovli's FTD phrase: 'The wind is in pieces, blank sheets with colour.'
Helena's CTSS phrase: 'Those who don't feel this love'
Poison's BTM Theme: 'Fantasy'
JFTLOI
Thank you for all your comments :)
By horvax
© 2008 horvax
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