I said to my soul be still, be still,
If God doesn’t want you, the devil will;
In love there’s always a kiss or a dart,
And both are frenzied as a broken heart.
And if love decays and scorn obtrudes,
Furious as whirlwinds or vipers’ broods,
There’s few who can bluster a stiff-lipped shrug,
Far less a kind word and a parting hug.
For passions broke loose will shred up the clouds
And rip apart mountains like nail-torn shrouds,
And stamped on, disgraced, in the stone-filled mud
The lover’s pale likeness will blacken like blood.
I said to my soul be still, be still,
If God doesn’t want you, the devil will;
Dragged to the judgement, to curse or to bless,
Your tight-ribbed “no” is the devil’s “yes.”
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© February 2017
