Midnight's Dew (5)

i go back to the days

on the other side of may

and search for where i gave myself

suspended into powdered white clouds

sprouting free as the lusting seeds of weeds

stretching through open air

festering on the window sills

of the night time,

sharp wind flutters beneath my dress

i am quiet, and still

i look to God’s unchanging hand

with bare feet pressed to the brittleness

of broken glass, reflecting the blood stroked above each door

hoping to be kept safe here, away from the stark winds of the night time

i make myself open, i dare to bellow out and cry

because i gave myself surely

I am my wounded sacrifice

i go back to the days

on the other side of may

and search for where i gave myself

the waves have crashed

the river has turned

and the ocean has swung into gulfs

here

i sit barren, quiet, still, and numb

harvest time has come,

it is the brink of a new dusk