~Beauty~
I became
Beautiful.
I didn’t know
It made me prey
For wolves
With tempestuous
Appetites.
And they ate
Of my flesh
And I died,
Unfurled, bright red,
Passion and fear,
They did me in.
And I cried
So many rivers
Of broken sobs
At the injustice
Of the dance
Of beauty and death
Intertwined,
Like the most
Delicate lace.
How cruel that
The moth craves
The heat of flame
And the wolf
Seeks to destroy,
Whilst the sun burns
Molten in the void.
But as the flame
Ignites the last
Bit of wood
In a pile of ash,
I grew warm
And sparked
Aflame.
And the death
That deemed
The beauty then
To die,
Also caused the me
I am now
To rise.
And again beauty
Links itself arm and arm
With pain.
Do I weep
Waterfalls?
Do I let the ache
Cause my spark
To void?
Do I lament
At this world that
Both devours
And births?
Or do I rise
Like the smoke
From the flame?
Aloft and away,
I can no more look
At this play,
Than my eyes can
Bear the sun,
And I’ve left rivers
In my wake
Anyway.
So lift me up
Tender heart,
Hold me long
Rib cage embrace,
And reach
Nimble fingers
Up and out
From charcoaled ash
And tempt the beast
Unafraid.
Beauty has learned,
Crowned with thorns
And a heart
Through pain
Made brave.
-Angel Marie Russell