The Quickening of Azrael

 

Between toll of five and six

he wakes her dawn with scythe

of his restless thoughts and sighs.

She joins him tourniquet in

the morn that keeps them forlorn

longing for the sun to rise.

Who will blink bright first?

 

So tired, so tired, so tired

 

She prays today is that day

A dement relief of the pain

time refuses to heal hollow.

Stubborn clock ticks a reverse

making his absence far worse

as curse that killed her heart

in the past crucifies her freedom.

 

Enough is enough is enough

 

Bloodletting by pen never ends

or mends damage done by stun

of his cruel torture of silence.

Easy to blame if she breaks the wait

with spit of redemption. He laments

her failure to obey, or comply to his game

and shames her for disturbing his conjecture.

 

This time, this time, this time

 

He has power and control to atone

but he watches her die alone while

the chime of thirty five minutes apart

from sense of relief, making final peace,

dispelling myths, rewriting history together

rather than in solitude to determine their

future’s past, clamours her awaited abjuration.

 

Tis time, tis time, tis time

 

From “Shadows of Magdalene”

 © Katypoetess 2013

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