That can’t endure
The anger of the page
Being bare,
Or the silence
That shouts the truth
Of nights alone
without you there.
I hate ghosts
And summer shadows
Over roads
Opaque as glass,
And isolation
Of approaching storms
Suffocating
As clouds of gnats.
Nothing could prepare me
For this austerity—
I deny myself
And hide my need;
There’s the lie
That gives life
And the lie
Meant to deceive,
And then there’s my lie
That gives false hope
So I can live…
In myths and dreams
I fan my needs
In the dark
And pretend
In prayer
To understand
The hidden language of God.