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Black Coal in the Giant’s Hand and Our Lady on Ice

I once said, “How long, Lord

Before you restore the wind?”

It’ll come it’ll come it’ll come

I knew. The black coal’s dust consumed

My lungs, a dark smoke, my throat

A chimney; I could not squeeze

Coal into that glass held to eye

Causes young men to bend the knee

Women to thankfully cry,

“No, my words will never speak fire,”

I thought, “I’ll never squeeze

The coals of time. Do it God’s

Way; it’ll come, it’ll come;”

The bellows, I thought, no longer

Young enough to feed my lungs;

Now my passion consumes paper

And Goliath’s fingers crush

The coal; I am crushing

With the might of Goliath’s fingers;

No longer is the passion wasted

On the ignorant, uncaring dead.

No longer does my voice cry out

To a cold empty room

On a cold white sheeted mattress.

The power is too tempting

“Why play the victim now?”

I question God, it’s a more liberal

View. I haven’t had this view

Before; I squeeze diamonds

From the black lung, twist

The dust between my fingers

Toss it to the wind, to sparkle,

Draw man. “No longer will

I be victim to their sin. Now I am

Goliath;” but as I wax in my

New skin, David hurls the rock

From its sling.

Our Lady embedded in Ice

There men saw her as a sprite

Reflected in her cage of white

Men chased her form of watery light

In dreams that came hard in the night

Her body lucid, long and lean

A cold corpse, frozen to the earth

Blue hair, bent arm, frozen knee

The sun took pity, broke the back

Of the ice block, set her free

So through high mountains,

Cliffs and rocks she trickled

In a gathering stream, in rivulets

Of tears, mouth open

Her bosom’s skin slipped over ice

Pain built up the rage within

And sorrow brought it to the light.

Green – the color of fast and deep

White – the foam that came in waves

Along the long and joyous vein

She spreads her long body

Knee bent, her heavy breasts pinned

Blasted, rippled by the wind

She’s touched only by old earth’s hand

Its gravity like a naked man

Basking in her pools

Her face and belly ghosting him, a mirror.

Watch her through the thickening trees

Her body sliding toward the sea

A torturous rape, a rapid ride

For all who’ve hung upon her side

Hearts pound, as she shrieks and sighs

With each down stroke a demon dies

Within the man who’s held the pain

Endured her crushing fingers round

Who’s felt the pound of her breasts soft

Been beaten by her to the blood

And wants for centuries her cold flood.



Source by Don V Standeford

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