Exile - Or Coming Home?

A petal for her thoughts

cast out from the rose

Like a star angel-dives

the tempest of her eyes

One final flight

or floundering in the moat;

The walls are indifferent

as silver-wired bird song

The walls still offer

no protection from thorns.

She has seen,

in a dream, perhaps

her memories sundered:
Siren drowning in the depths

of that stormiest of oceans

— love —

She has seen

even beyond these depths

knowing the truth

of her devotion —

Yet the golden key she gave that guards
the gilded cage around her heart
Drifts like a petal

caught by the tide

sinks like a stone to the bottom.

Now only angels

might catch hold

and how she wishes

form might follow

The siren enshrined

in a tower of dreams

and all the world restless

a wave washing over

Over and over

a petal for her thoughts

She yet whispers his name

engraved upon gold

All she can do

in one of many final moments

So cast out from the rose.

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