In the memory of lovers

It has been, emotionally, a long and hard road back for the poet from his second divorce. Self-recriminations for trusting too much, believing too easily and not being all things to all people in the tapestry still weigh heavy on his heart. Early, after the end, he wrote this piece, now almost two years old, as an oath to himself and a reflection. The tenth stanza has become his mantra as he continues on, cautiously optimistic, but still bleeding. It is an intimate and thoughtful glimpse into the furnace of his soul. It does appear on his CD "THE NAKED READS", if you want to hear him read it and is part of the music arc called "Wordslinger" on the CD "The Last Romantic Verb".


In the memory of lovers

Perhaps it is the season
to place my faith, again,
in the joy and the passion
of a woman's deep heart.

To offer up my honor,
my hunger and my heart
to the fates, for my part,
as a sacrifice to their whims.

I have not lost a step
on this road of dark corners
where whispers are murders
and rewards are quite rare.

But I can't see my failing
to see this through till mourning
replaces a voice warning
of the shadows that linger.

In the moments she ponders
there's a bittersweet venom
on the kiss of a woman
to the light or the dark.

On the lips of an angel
I have tasted redemption
and sad desecration
when she ponders too long.

Or when choosing unwisely
not knowing or caring,
her shallows breed suffering
and the currents then fail.

I cannot stand for her
if she doesn't come bearing
or at least shout a warning
when the demons abound.

On the black brick'd road
on which I will yet wander,
I will, in truth, wonder
what is under my tread.

I shall seek a soft solace
but not a surrender
I will take no pretender
again to my bed.

I will drink my new wine
in the memory of lovers,
each angels who hovers
will light a new light.

Be she destiny, incarnate,
or yet another missed moment,
I shall keep to this torment
undefeated, through the night.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.