Wreath upon bleeding wreath
Her anguish was spread abroad these stones
With tears she watered their dying petals
The mortar of the mausoleum
Interwoven and bound with her sorrows
Sealed shut and eternally hidden
Lies the love of her life.
Was more than she gave
She takes on the funereal apparel of the abandoned
With time as hoist she’d draw strength
from the wells of this bond
Beyond the times when memories are inexorable
Though they be fond
And sanguineness rears its face in the far beyond.
Each flower spread on the sunbathed lithic base
Throws ajar the doors to a new phase
That triumphantly she might waltz in.
Each loss and it’s ensuing mnemonics
An extra coat of clay upon the perfect mould
The insculpt that is her life
Life so easily caressed by death
A rock waved and slapped and wet by the waters of the firth
Unflinching and sublime
Battle-bruised and beaten
Till wounds are bound and healed by time.
Not that the sun might depone
And upon her back abate his baneful glow
Or the wind might stop to blow
At the dark sigil of which she was clad
But that the weight she had
borne; and did bear
Shall flow onto the concrete of these stones
In the floods of her sorrow tear.
©2017 2edged Pen