the flame alone
I spin the gleam between my hands
between the dark and dawn
as once and long ago I did
before I fought alone.
The fortress on the far-off hill,
the prison and the pain,
are never half so dark a dream
as when I wake again.
Two children in a silent room
with death alone at hand,
the twins who walked a road of dread
in hopes of better end…
We chose, and by that choice were shaped
until we knew to flee;
we slipped their bonds together then,
and side by side were free.
Red flame and silver mist,
we lived where others died.
But in some Heaven's cruel twist
now only the flame survives.
Half of the living whole
that kept the whole alive,
I lay me down midst enemies;
the flame alone survives.
Dark master of the cunning mind,
that foe we came to serve –
our hopes of vengeance, ash-warm held,
struck sparks that stung and burned.
And wrong we did was wrong that cost,
a cost for all to pay –
no torture that my dreams recall
cut deeper than that day.
…Tonight I lie beneath the roof
of those I used to hate,
but who of us is blameless now
when sorrow comes too late?
And by their side we tried our strengths
to help and hold and guard;
and if that was forgiving, then,
forgiving was not hard.
For we were weapons, he and I,
but weapons of our own;
the ones who shaped us could not claim
our souls when we were grown.
But weapons that become a shield
must learn to bear the pain;
a brother's blood has stained the ground –
I wish it had been mine.
Red flame and silver mist,
we lived where others died.
But in some Heaven's cruel twist,
now only the flame survives.
Half of the living whole
that kept the whole alive,
I lay me down midst enemies;
the flame alone survives.
We held each other once
and suffered side by side,
but no hands touch mine now;
the hands that held have died.
Half of the living whole
that kept the whole alive –
once one of two, now twin untwinned –
the flame alone survives.