Running With Wolves

Stroking lightly the dappled sunlight
In a midwinter mornings' daydream
Muscles contorted and contracting
Convulsing with vitality
Lost in a reverie frosted in ice
Fading the nothing in the heat of breath
Holding the promise of love in arms
In arms white from unfeeling

Hoping the leaves don't touch my body
As they fall, crytalline and perfect
Cradling a broken heart
The most perfect bird cooing softly

Dancing with the dead in a mask of glass
Watching the moving eyes betray the shadows
Hiding amongst irises darkened by disgrace
Reaching out through the air to touch
But only grasping mist instead
Though blood never touched thee
They are safe within her thoughts

Craving the gentle touch of sunlight
Not from beyond a cracked windowpane
To feel it upon her face! to feel
Pulsing through her the life that is
Breathless and tired she waits
Frail. her heart beats slower and slower
The ghost within her cradles her head
Murmuring nothings, promising sustanation

Pounding in her head are the voices that never release
Taking the blood-rose of their pain
On her fading shoulders
The broken bodies of the hurting
Draped across her sallowed arms
As she walks in silence
-caught in a reverie misted and cracked -
Into the twilight
Before the breath in stolen from her lungs
As she gasps at the paina nd suffering
And runs
And runs
Until she has nothing left to give

All she can do now is feel.