hope-of-a-burning-dawn - Tumblr blog

[hope-of-a-burning-dawn]

The Frozen Gold

it was a yellow rose

in the dark of night.

a plea for a chance, he said.

I accepted it quickly,

as I choked and I sobbed.

~▪○▪~

but I should have known by now,

that a clipped rose never lasts.

~▪○▪~

I watched a chance wasted,

a hope only tasted,

as its life ebbed

into oblivion.

~▪○▪~

for all the more months I've watched it,

a Wise Woman waiting for day,

a corpse of a brotherhood left frozen,

a latch for a life never lived.

~▪○▪~

I watched it freeze,

its yellow yield

as its life ebbed

into oblivion.

~▪○▪~

while he never so much as smiled at me,

or looked to me,

as if I were worth the pretty words he preached

and I felt a kinship with

that golden, frozen, rose.

~▪○▪~

Because once it is clipped,

it is only a matter of time

before

it

dies...

~▪○▪~

and no amount of sugared deeds,

or water-logged pleas

can bring back a Rose

whose roots were clipped

before you

ever

met

me.

~▪○▪~

I finally walked away,

from the frozen rose.

its life petrified

by the hardened form

of that which granted life.

a beautiful crystal,

and a claim to preserve,

but the one who dies and froze knows,

that the warmth is only a lie.

~▪○▪~

and I knew this kinship,

with a long dead rose.

a promise --

as all roses are --

to protect and preserve.

but I've seen the ancient world froze over,

and I know they aren't alive.

~▪○▪~

Because once it is clipped,

it is only a matter of time

before

it

dies...

~▪○▪~

and no amount of sugared deeds,

or water-logged pleas

can bring back a Rose

whose roots were clipped

before it

ever

saw

me.

~▪○▪~

a new rose corpse

to hold to a brother

without tie,

without tries,

without pain.

for you claimed

to begin anew

before you

ever

knew

me.

[hope-of-a-burning-dawn]

Dream Girl

You smiled at me.

That’s the first thing I remember. A smile that lit up your face, making you glow golden like an angel.

You touched me.

Your sweet gaze and the softest of caresses, knowing of the fragility of paper glass, but knowing it was doomed to break without you.

You’ve got me. I’ve got you.

I could see your freckles, shredded chocolate sprinkled amongst the cocoa. Dark hair bound in cinnamon twists, and eyes as deep as the warm forest ground.

Round glasses flash, you stand on your toes to put your arms around me.

You smiled at me.

You touched me.

You loved me.

Oh my little Dream Girl, you warmed my heart by your firelight, and wet my cheeks with your storms. While the world was dark, you held off the nightmares with your laugh.

Your hand in mine,

My heart in yours,

My soul at peace in your arms.

Oh my little Dream Girl, you were my solace in the chaos, my light in the dark, my love in the hate, a guardian angel ‘midst my dreams.

But I wake

My arms empty

My heart heavy

My soul dark.

Oh my little Dream Girl, you were only a dream,

And I loathe to see you go.

[hope-of-a-burning-dawn]

this morn of winter-tide

could it be a painting, 

written in our hearts? 

or could it be a feeling, 

where we forget our parts? 

I remember predecessors  

to the winter's woe, 

burned within our minds, 

and trapped within our words. 

  ~○~

the golden glow of memories, 

when the last are oft to fade. 

would it be so spoken, 

with nothing left to say? 

the stratosphere is burning 

the stars within our eyes. 

let me give this last to you, 

this morn of winter-tide. 

  ~○~

may you love me still, my dear, 

when all my color's gone. 

may you hold me still, my dear, 

when all my words are wrong. 

can you see me still, my love -- 

these memories gone past? 

or have you still forgotten, 

this frozen Autumn last? 

  ~○~

the day my trees are barren, 

the nights an endless task, 

the morn your baskets empty, 

for my fruit has seen its last -- 

will you come together, 

singing all your songs? 

or has the frostbite darkened 

as you see naught for my wrongs? 

  ~○~

wings of winter whisper wailing, 

oh did you take my heart? 

may you learn from its warmth, 

before I meet my mark. 

you took from me and took, 

'til I had naught to give. 

but tell me that you learned, 

to be grateful for your lot. 

  ~○~

oh my little children, 

your face twists angrily. 

you have taken all you have, 

and soon left it to rot. 

you may not see it coming, 

the cold horse of your pride, 

so let a Mother say her last goodbye, 

this morn of winter-tide.

[hope-of-a-burning-dawn]

Sincerely, the Future

some words 

are carved into our hearts. 

and every stinging crimson drop 

reminds us of that secret part 

o'er-shadowed by their words and deeds 

that broke us with not e'en a plea. 

  ~○~

Mama? Papa? did I do something wrong?

  ~○~

with every year we grow up younger, 

with every heart our smiles grow 'part. 

with every breath our beats are broken. 

with every mark our light grows dark. 

  ~○~

where are you, Mama? I'm scared.

  ~○~

when Alexandria burned the past was lost 

but now the future's ash rains down, 

crumbled crimson embers ebbing 

cinders sloughing off burnèd bracings-- 

you called us the future.

  ~○~

you left me, Papa.

  ~○~

like that meant something. 

  ~○~

I'm hurting, Mama.

  ~○~

our smiles grew cynical, 

our laughs became scoffs. 

our heedless play turned into 

troubled trade-offs. 

  ~○~

you left me, Mama.

  ~○~

you abandoned me, Papa.

  ~○~

coldest winter freezing our thumbs, 

without our mamas to make us wear gloves. 

it's lonely, Papa, out here in the snow.

why is Jack Frost devouring hands whole?

  ~○~

echoes for company, 

and spiders for friends, 

is this really what you knew back then? 

you were ready for kids -- 

of that, there's no doubt -- 

but you weren't ready for people 

who walk their own route. 

  ~○~

souls shatter like glass, Papa. did you know that?

  ~○~

there's a brand on our hearts, reminding us always 

of the silence that froze us, and the shouts that have broke us; 

shouts from the moment 

that we fell away, 

and you knew -- without doubt -- 

that our light became grey. 

  ~○~

you can see it in our eyes; 

  ~○~

you left me, Papa.

  ~○~

how dark they've become. 

  ~○~

you abandoned me, Mama.

  ~○~

we grew up, 

  ~○~

you didn't protect me.

  ~○~

twelve years too soon. 

  ~○~

the world was so cruel.

  ~○~

Mama, Papa--

I wasn't ready to die.

~ Ember Rose

[hope-of-a-burning-dawn]

when i say i’m gay (unchoosing)

when i say i’m gay

it is always with guarded eyes

seeking a tense, a shudder, a twitch

waiting

for you to change your mind.

when i say i’m gay

i do not mean happy.

i do not even think of the girl

for whom i wrote the world.

when i say i’m gay

i await your judgement.

when i say i’m mormon

it is always with a shielded heart

preparing for mocking

hateful 

scorn

waiting

for you to make your mind.

when i say i’m mormon

i do not mean hopeful.

i do not even think of the god

who held me when i had no one.

when i say i’m mormon

i await your judgement.

.

.

.

it has taken far too many scars

and far too many prayerless nights

and nightless prayers.

it has taken far too many tears

torments

tortures

for me to take my hands off my ears

and hear.

why are you gay?

because i have felt my heart flutter

and beat

when i thought it was broken.

for a girl

for whom i gave the world.

because i felt the peace

the warmth

the stillness

the hope

that comes with loving

whom i was always meant to love.

why are you mormon?

because i have felt my soul breathe

and sing

when i thought i was lost.

from a Father

for whom i’d give the world.

because i felt the peace

the warmth

the stillness

the hope

that comes with loving

whom i was always meant to love.

far too many years

and far too many tears

to take my hands off my ears

and hear:

“My daughter,

yes you must change.

you are not perfect;

you are not complete,

and that is no sin.

my children are imperfect;

my children are incomplete,

and their endless chant

to choose, choose, CHOOSE

has made you close your heart

to every side of love.

So hear me now, my child,

from my heart straight to yours

in this airplane all alone

after your heart was broken and torn.

Ember.

you 

must 

learn 

to love 

yourself 

again.”

.

.

.

it has taken far

too many scars

to reach and mar

this tattered heart.

within that endless chant

of choose, choose, CHOOSE;

above the sound 

of something breaking

I heard His command

to love.

they may tell you of a thousand ways

to wend and weep and wear away.

so ‘low my hand of love like His

to reach and touch and say

it’s okay.

amid the screaming throngs,

with tales of fire and songs,

passions prolonged,

gatekeepers and wrongs

you stand

unmoving,

unchoosing.

but don’t forget,

you’re not alone.

He’s here with you.

and when you can’t see through,

just remember

that i’m here too.

~ Ember Rose

[hope-of-a-burning-dawn]

The Rose Corpse

it was an orange rose 

in the white of winter 

"for our friendship," he said. 

it sat by my window 

and watched the sun burn. 

  ~▪○▪~

but a clipped rose never lasts. 

  ~▪○▪~

I watched the orange bleed 

the water green 

as its life ebbed 

into oblivion. 

  ~▪○▪~

for all the more months, I kept it. 

a dead rose on the 'sill. 

a corpse of friendship was left longer 

than when it was alive. 

  ~▪○▪~

I watched it decay. 

the water was gone. 

the green became black. 

and the black became white. 

the orange was gone, 

left a red rouge lace, 

and a sand-white heart. 

  ~▪○▪~

while he told me goodbye 

and that our friendship couldn't last 

that none could. 

and I felt a kinship 

with that long-dead rose. 

  ~▪○▪~

because once it is clipped 

it is only a matter of time 

before 

it 

dies...

  ~▪○▪~

and no amount of sugared deeds 

or water-logged pleas 

can bring back a rose 

whose roots were clipped 

before it  

ever 

saw 

me. 

  ~▪○▪~

. 

. 

. 

  ~▪○▪~

I finally took it from the shelf 

the rose corpse. 

its vase stuck there, 

as if it too remembered  

and held on 

if only for the memory 

of what it once was. 

  ~▪○▪~

I brought it to the sink 

and placed it beside 

the long-dead corpse 

of a white rose worn. 

  ~▪○▪~

it too was gifted 

with roots long-clipped. 

by a faithful soul 

who thought he knew 

me. 

  ~▪○▪~

it was a white rose 

in the orange of sunset. 

"as your purity," he said. 

it sat by my window 

and watched the sun fade. 

  ~▪○▪~

because once it is clipped 

it is only a matter of time 

before 

it 

dies...

  ~▪○▪~

and no amount of sugared deeds 

or water-logged pleas 

can bring back a rose 

whose roots were clipped 

before it  

ever 

knew 

me. 

  ~▪○▪~

. 

. 

. 

  ~▪○▪~

two rose corpses 

like brother and brother 

without color 

without meaning 

without fate. 

for each blossom 

was doomed at birth 

for being a symbol 

of something 

that 

never 

knew

me.

~ Ember Rose