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I saw you
with a hole inside
that could not be filled
with mercy
(though I tried).

With the cunning
of a judo master,
you took my food
milk of human kindness
and turned it into
something foul,
fuel for self-destruction,
an ugly, noxious thing,
a flame
that gives no warmth,
only ash.

And so I waited for the end,
wrote the obit,
held my breath,
picked out my widow’s weeds.

But you have emerged
from the fire,
a degenerate angel
transformed to man.
And now I see the truth:
that all our darkest moments
precede dawn.

This is a Three Word Wednesday post.


Jae Rose said...

I hope we all have the ability to rise from the ashes..even when lovingly accompanied I guess it's a task we must do alone..mighty words

March 26, 2014 at 9:41 AM
Andy Sewina said...

Love the way he emerges from the fire transformed.

March 26, 2014 at 10:18 AM
Belva Rae Staples said...

This is lovely, Ann.

March 26, 2014 at 2:35 PM
Old Egg said...

How did he manage that? Let's hope the leopard has changed his spots after all. What a great picture you painted here.

March 26, 2014 at 6:54 PM
rallentanda said...

Beautifully expressed ...great images and let us hope the degenerate angel transformed to a man is an improvememnt:)Enjoyed this.

March 26, 2014 at 9:10 PM
Swathi Shenoy said...

I was always fascinated by phoenix :) Beautifully written :)

March 27, 2014 at 5:25 AM
Sancho said...

What are widow weeds?

March 27, 2014 at 6:33 AM
Alice Audrey said...

Fantastic insight. This is excellent.

March 27, 2014 at 2:02 PM

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