firestorm and hail

she came without warning,
like the coming of a thief,
firestorm to burn my soul,
and hail to purge my grief.

i do not mind the burning,
i do not mind the scour,
but to come upon me like a ghost
i almost can’t endure.

i’ve left behind all hope,
i’ve forgotten how to feel,
but hail and firestorm bids me
to accept that this is real:

that there’s a morning after,
that there’s a time to smile.
such lies! i have believed them once,
but all it is, is bile.

there is no morn for such as i,
there is no balm, no sooth –
i’ve lived alone and friendless,
this is my only truth.

but firestorm keeps me burning,
i feel the fire, and cringe;
i made myself this armor,
she melts it, every hinge.

and hail keeps pelting round me,
the pain, so strangely, heals;
i cannot help the loosening–
she takes my skin, and peels

the hopeless brute away,
the wreckage of a man;
then lifts my chin to see the sky
and bellows: UNDERSTAND!

i stand alone again,
the evening breeze with me,
but purged and scoured, and weeping,
but weeping happily.

all right, then, one time more,
once more i raise this blade;
my hope for life, and love, and her:
my quest is made.

—–
2/24/09
playing with rhymes, again….