Spilled ink – Page 28 – A (wise) man of two faces

Naming names 2

David,
I remember
the way you were that night:
a bully, brute – nothing like a
father.

The seasons will change,
and we must ride the changes
like the moon and the tides.

Evening:
long shadows stretch,
and the sun’s final sparks
light the sky with crimson and gold
colors.

Purple flowers bloom
between cemetery stones
as life continues.

The burden and the blame,
the stain on my name;
the feelings of guilt
fall as layers of silt,
petrifying my shame.

Fade into the crowd.
You try to lose yourself, but
you can’t hide your shame.

The padded white walls,
and the sanitary halls,
artificially pristine,
like they’re trying to clean
the disgrace of the fall.

Chorus of voices,
raised in celebration? Song?
No – demanding blood.

A thousand-year love
was not without its hard times,
but they talked it out.

Regardless the song
keeps flowing along,
hurried and breathless,
fevered and restless,
injured…but strong.