Page 32 - A Qualified Acceptance of Sorrow

any pleasing sensation; hearing only

the weeping and curses of those
they had abused – a cacophony of rage
and sorrow.

By night, they gathered by firelight,
attracted to it as if moths,
but distracted by the frigid blood

circulating through their bodies;
a burning cold that pains and excites
but which can neither climax nor relax.

They had pandered to distorted desire
and now their bodies school them
in their victims’ unbearable pain,

the embodied shame.
How simple, how difficult the route
to forgiveness and redemption: to recall

truly loving even one person
and in the recollection, desire
this good more than power, or pleasure.

12.
Here night held no starlight.
Here there was no moonlight.
I edged closer to my companion,

fearful that with my next step,
I would discover nothing
and find myself falling, forever.

Then I felt two things: a quiet
confidence in my guide –
and the vast emptiness all around me

even though the darkness enveloping
those who had enjoyed or profited from killing
had the clammy texture of fog.

For a moment Raphael