Sunday, July 12, 2009

On a Dangerous Night

I slept through shining hours
In a house divided,
Waiting for the world to end
Until my fury passed.

Well the yoke is not ease
And the burden not light
And I don't want the weight,
On a dangerous night,
Of this dismal disease.

You saw me sing alone
And lose the words before the crowd.
You heard me hold my groan
When witchy women acted proud.

There's a fire in the breeze
And I'm fixing to fight,
And the passion is great,
On a dangerous night,
Forcing men to their knees.

"Lead me not into temptation"
Did not lead to celebration;
I would not accept direction--
Mulishly refused correction.

If to love is to feel
And to feel is to touch
Then the fear in my flesh
Means your love is too much
And my sin is too real.

If you will, you will see
And you'll hear, if you might
All the things tempting fate
On this dangerous night
And the things tempting me.

If yours is beauty, let me see it now
And not the idols I erect--
But not when I have scoured my eyes.
If yours is truth, then let me hear it now
And not this march I cannot stop--
But not when I have broken drums.

And when nothing could please
But would vanish from sight
In my treacherous state
On a dangerous night
You appear and you seize.

You made me turn to you,
The moment I condemned the world.
You waited for this meeting, and
You used my angry loneliness to give
You one more look.

We sat the darkening hours,
You and I,
Attention undivided,
Ah!--until the rain fell like an answer.

And I wanted to feel
And I wanted to touch
And to taste with my flesh
Of a life more than much,
Of a love that is real.

If you will, you will see
And you'll hear, if you might
All the things tempting fate
On this dangerous night
And the things tempting me.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Now this poem has passion!

Anonymous said...

I believe this is a reference to the 80s movie The Shining.

Anonymous said...

No, it's a poem of the heart. These are the best by far.

Anthony Zuba said...

You have a higher opinion of this piece than I do. It's a "sound and fury" poem, and I fear that it appears more meaningful than it is. I also regret some of the unhappy word choices. ("Brightening" would have been better than "shining.")

I don't like the voice in this poem. The person speaking is sexist and immature. But I am in that person, so I'll have to own up to what I've written.

The next piece will be better.

Anonymous said...

Be mainly who you are and a touch of who you want to be. That is all anyone can ask of you.

Anthony Zuba said...

That is kind advice, Anonymous.