You may have seen me, silhouetted against the sky, this coldest January night — howling with the frozen moon. Moon and I conspire, the whole world close enough to touch. We eat a midnight banquet, seasoned with colors of my guilt.
Show mercy. Peel back the layers to my authentic soul. I hope I’m not ugly in your sight. That thought becomes too heavy to hold, to tough to chew or swallow. My thoughts, bone-white lies of morality plays, open for all to see.
The grey of my indifference , the black of my sins, hope they are not frightening. My purple of betrayal, my red of anger, my green of vengeance — hope they do not make you weep. They’re a carapace to which I’m stitched. Everything I do is stitched with its color, and will no more fade, than I can wash it away.
rob kistner © 2023
More poetry at: dVerse
~ Utterly breathtaking performance of an astoundingly beautiful song by Peter Gabriel. ~