Cast Away

A mute and unwilling voice –
A fire and a sword
That has slept in my hand
For the ghosts of love castaway.

“If thy offend thee, pluck it out.”

Still a bitter glow in my dark eyes -
The pulling arrows;
Ones not taken from Cupid’s quiver
But penetrating my loving beauty.

O Child!  To finally embrace you!
Up from the holocaust
Of that dark mill that claimed you –
To hold you high inside redemption!