Sweetness Of The Decent Night

They talked to me again today, they spoke in gentle tones
and said the things I ought to hear then lead me where
the frangipani flowered; they said the heady scent was meant
to soothe the wicked wounds I wore, to ease the twisted scars
that tore my inner peace. The power was overwhelming and I soared
in weightless flight, I spun amongst the blooms, I wheeled and turned
with agile ease in pungent breezes thicker than the blood that thundered
in my veins; would I could remain amid the scented blooms,
to loft beside the waxen leaves in pretty flight. Today I walk between
the dead and those who never lived, uncertain in my strides, awaiting
who decides my daily fate. The smile that tilts my lips is rooted deep
in flight and scented blooms and sweetness of the decent night.
© I.D.Carswell