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Treason
© 02.08.09 By Elisa Williams
This poem originally appeared at ElisaWilliams.com
The night breathes from the walls
a closet chamber, cradled dark
hands lay still, birds ensnared
a rest of damask silk
No mourning cloth
nor seemly veil
a piece of crepe to declare grief
all forgotten
no decoration
for sorrows such as these
Where do you turn
in darkest night?
heartbeat’s loud, echoing
Cold fingers press
back the riving tide
of a heartfelt treason
Consistency in grief
dauntless courage uphold you now
through your hearts severance
all loyalty betrayed
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