to the family
When lovers die
in brutal interruption
in the very moment
when their happiness began,
you grow most fearful
and concerned about your own relationships
and hesitate to use your wings
when swans have broken theirs.
The air is dominated by despair
as everyone is shaken up by the injustice,
while the worst thing is
that no one is to blame.
You can't blame love
for making this our tragedy the worse,
you can't blame God or fate
whose innocence of silence
keep them out of reach,
and least of all you can blame any person,
while you feel responsible
for having been initiated
in this miracle of love and beauty.
No one could imagine
the remotest possibility of an archangel
suddenly to be demissioned,
and it hurts us all
in our profoundest love
and hits unfairly every heart
that Michael's shared his love with.
How can anyone love any more
when such a love was so rewarded
with such beastly outrageous injustice?
That's our problem and our suffering,
the worst part of it being
that we have to carry it ourselves
without the aid of Michael.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 451 times
Written on 2008-05-20 at 09:53
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Broken wings
When lovers die
in brutal interruption
in the very moment
when their happiness began,
you grow most fearful
and concerned about your own relationships
and hesitate to use your wings
when swans have broken theirs.
The air is dominated by despair
as everyone is shaken up by the injustice,
while the worst thing is
that no one is to blame.
You can't blame love
for making this our tragedy the worse,
you can't blame God or fate
whose innocence of silence
keep them out of reach,
and least of all you can blame any person,
while you feel responsible
for having been initiated
in this miracle of love and beauty.
No one could imagine
the remotest possibility of an archangel
suddenly to be demissioned,
and it hurts us all
in our profoundest love
and hits unfairly every heart
that Michael's shared his love with.
How can anyone love any more
when such a love was so rewarded
with such beastly outrageous injustice?
That's our problem and our suffering,
the worst part of it being
that we have to carry it ourselves
without the aid of Michael.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 451 times
Written on 2008-05-20 at 09:53
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
