Photo Credit: Andy Rothwell (Flickr)
By Elizabeth Merwin
This darkness of mine is not worthy of my home’s beauty
And you care not, for in you there is no darkness at all.
You know not of the rolling hills that I sat and longed for mutely.
You know not of the cup of warm wine that I drank before my fall.
You know naught about how this darkness corrupts the innocent,
For you have never felt all of this envy, gluttony and terror inside.
You know naught of my suffering that seems to be infinite,
For you have only the kind, temperance and calm in which you confide.
That brightness of yours allows you to sit high upon your throne,
Unlike the rage and greed and pain that I had let consume me.
So you turned my brothers and sisters against me with your drone
and cast me out, locking the gates to home with your golden key.
The wine of my cup was spilled over your rolling hills that I had longed to see, I have seen what soars bright in the light but only the dark can dwell within me.
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