Talisman

And in her garden, the tall stone stands.
Lichen girds its gray loins about,
The leech embrace of love.
Wind-borne, the leavings of forgotten love
Add their sting and bite.
Swirling flirt or whispered warning,
The same to steadfast stone.
The task, and calling, and raison d’être
Demand only this:
Remain, remain, remain.
And so, remaining, the sacrifice is made.

 

Her soul is just the same.
Embraced by destructor love,
Its unseen filaments searching out weakness, flaws,
Making of her the very weapon of her extinction.
Grains of the love gone before
Abrade valorous heart,
Becloud the pure font within.
The task, and calling, and raison d’être
Demand only this:
Remain, remain, remain.
Once more, the sacrifice is made.

 

Blood-infuséd stone stands no taller,
Withstands no longer
Than stone that makes no altar.
What boon is gained by slashing knife
And crimson flood?
The end is the same:
Stone becomes boulder
Becomes rock
Becomes pebble
Becomes sand,
To leap upon the wind
And scour the stone yet standing
In her garden.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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