The broken wolf

The wolf at my door lay splintered and broken
 No more howling at wooden moons.
Why fix that? Why mend what bit and choked me?
I no longer need golden crosses and silver spoons.

Lot's wife once salted my tears, stuck and frozen
tributes to grief, stinging open wounds.
Why hold that? Why cling as if I was pain's chosen
child, a wild mourner singing melancholy tunes

over and over and over, being both torch and song
hiding my light behind heavy death masks
Why wear that? Why the ashes and sackcloth
when the time for grief has long since past?

And so Kali came, disguised in storm and wind
ripping off masks, breaking wolves, melting ice,
leaving me naked, bareboned and awakened
I was loved although chastised

by a higher power, her beauty direct. Strong.
Pennies in a plaster shrine glazed in water
welcome new hope, change immediate. Birdsong
heralds the new love. Venus I am your daughter.

Unreasonable love

Love is not reasonable.
It doesn't follow any set of logic.
There are no timetables, no equations to fix it to any dimension.
It sits bleeding between duty and passion
between memory and hope
between loathing and longing
between clinging and surrender
between ego and spirit...
It is the binding
behind beauty and compassion
behind holding or letting go
behind solitude or belonging,
behind singing and celebration
behind sorrow and sweat.
Love is the pause between breaths
invisible fabric, a force beyond death
propulsion of the oversoul
sweeter than a doughnut hole...
it may have some rhyme,
but never ...never ever  has a reason.
love defies all explanation, all definition
love is not reasonable.