The Perversity of the Light
with vocal cords ripped out.
It left a blood trail,
when my attackers fled at sunset.
Dusk is reborn once again.
The birthing pains of its labour
stain me, as my blood
taints the maiden-white snow.
Numb, face-down in the cold snow,
I await black-vield Death.
Little did I know Death
would come to me as an Angel.
She walks towards me,
with her halo stained with the blood of the Lost Ones.
A smile across her face,
and her eyes alight.
I crawl towards this Lady of Death;
her wings blacker than a crow's.
Her fingers smooth my hair away from my face,
and she tilts my head upwards.
I reach up a wary hand to stroke her cheek.
She shines with the brightest light.
She leans down to whisper:
Rest now, Dear One,
your name will never be forgotten
for a soul never dies,
and the scales must be balanced.
Sleep in peace.
Her arms open and I am held.
As I weep, tears seed clouds,
and the sun blooms
a morning glory.