POEM : Waiting on the Shore for a Sinnerman

When it rained blood on the stage

She was standing on straw, white clothes black scarf

Was it the winter or just the night ?

Oh what a sight

What I witnessed, What I saw

A sinnerman standing at the shore

Jerking her scarf away

I think to myself

Let him have the scarf

Without it she would be white alone

Pure, pure, pure

But she held onto it as if in the cloth resided a heart

Not hers but someone’s who was dearier to her than herself

And the sinnerman looked at her

And his eyes beheld love

And I looked at the waters

And saw the reflection of the same love

But whose eyes were these mimicking the sinnerman’s?

And I looked to the shores again

Ah the dawning of the senses

She loved him

Because where there is love there is not the abundance of righteous things

And so I walk away

As there is no power of man that could turn their wills into water

A Water which is dubious and specked with shades of grey

For both had the other in mind

Even if one would betray the other, the shores could be spared of longing

But they were primitive adamant beings

Ones who don’t die for love

Rather live for eternity in its shade

Alas the wrath of water

Curse its tides and sheen

For both were swept into the blue

And never a tide was seen

                                                                 Paolo & Francesca - Dante's Inferno