Rolling Thunder

She lies before me cradle-bound
You are of my  blood not mine
but my sisters child.
I watch your sweet mouth form
milk soured smiles as you move.

I have dreamt of love
but only the love of women
not of this innocence
how could such innocence,
such pure beauty,
be born into this mad world.

with its plots of violence
and subplots of anguish?
the ice cold air in front
of the midsummer storm.
is pouring into the room.

the lace curtains billow like
spinnakers on a sailboat.
the fragile material
trying to protect you.
from the captured
ferocity o f the storm
what awaits you
as the clock ticks
and years roll by

what joys and sweetness
will you be holding
in your hands
what heartbeaks and bruises
will score your soul

the thunder blows apart
the storm clouds
allowing its deluge to fall
leaving me
protective of your sweetness

for unknown reasons
I want to leave you a legacy
hard earned
and marked with my own blood.

I wish for you to remember me
read my story and understand me
and not to leave incomplete
those things that I left behind