Never Destitute

In the darkest final hours,

  I began to write

 

And my words once spoken new

  from scattered ashes light the sky

 

To begin and end each day

  caught up in beauty’s distant wake

 

All loneliness filled by pages lined

  with happiness and joy

 

My fate betrothed, once mistress

  scorned

   —a lover more than wife

 

Whose vision so much sharper,

  her dissection cuts through bone

 

To slay the muted dragon’s fire

  in present tense delight

 

Beyond all past and future clouds

  above the darkening storm

 

To mate each breath and gifted word

  that heaven sends unwed

 

Never destitute in blessings shown

  —or in things I wish I’d said

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

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