Betrayal

DREAMS OF WHAT MAY HAVE BEEN

The soft promise, the delicate touch like a petal;
Years to grow together planned and yearned.
Grandchildren on knee who will never breathe life;
Love hung on a shrike's thorn bleeding.

Ever to feel love again? I don't know . . . .
How to trust again? Not now. Ever? . . . .
Who knew when I started down this crooked path,
That I would be briared - waylaid.

Perhaps I should have known - perhaps I did know:
A woman free enough to betray love once
Does not have love enough to not betray again.
(But that makes the gelding no less brutal.)

The loss of love, the loss of trust -
Like so much run-off from storm to sewer.
This I ken is the lot of my life;
I have reached too far to seize the day.

But the loss of reality - knowing what is:
This poor deprivation leaves me lapping
Mud puddles, hoping to slake my thirst
Before the water of life leaves this scorched earth.

[LMC 10 Jan '95]