FROZEN

Words cleave the cold, torpid silence,
your pronouncements 
destined for life's rife, overstuffed 
annals, settle a while
around the misty glow of frosty white
candles, tributes to your Saint.

A reluctant warmth hovers over the
edge of your glacial 
bitterness they shall bear into Infinity,
a burden never to be
eased. Ghostly flames gutter, tremble,
as they lean gently in
to enfold the softly comforting waves
your barbs repudiate.

I seek respite on the starlit lawn, away
from the agonised
moans of this dying space; I look to the
pallid watercolour 
sphere my dreams ride. Its brightest
drops I would enclose
in my unlearned hands, in my naive,
unknowing heart.

All my hope condenses into one moment, 
magnifying my senses,
claiming the space of my breath, melding
my spirit with visions
of my own glowing chrysalis, of a happy
emergence into light.

Alas, death trails me; the air thins, pearly
moonbeams petrify, 
shatter in midair, relinquish their hoary
shivers to the briny drops 
filling my eager, cupped, childish palms.
This light I shall never hold, 
merely its watery grave.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

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