Alice
In troubled times I've called your
name,
My love, and clung to it as does a
child,
To the belief in Santa,
Or the sightless, to the hope of
light;
It is for me,
The visionary dream,
That drives perseverance,
And decries despair;
It is the hope of wretched souls,
In purgatory awaiting,
The seemingly forgotten promise,
Of their eventual release.
When my stale words confuse, confine,
Confound my mind, and images converge
Into the swirling blur of madness,
I call your name.
Then hopelessness recedes,
As does an incorporeal nightmare,
Slowly fading, leaving behind only sweat-soaked
sheets,
Yielding to the purifying rays of the
dawn’s rising sun.
A simple word, your name, but to me,
a powerful amulet,
Which pierces the darkness and melts
away,
The deformed forms that haunt and
taunt my darkest days,
And fills them with all on earth that
heals and renews.
A simple word which simply is my all,
a synonym for sincere,
Unpretentious love that seldom asks
yet freely gives,
That does not question, but simply
knows,
That does not quickly burn, but
always, and forever, warms.
From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems (C) 2011 Victor D. Lopez.
No comments:
Post a Comment