The Remainder of Wrath

[The last five posts dealt with hyprocisy so I thought I would change the pace and share a quadrilogy of romantic poems. This is the first in the quadrilogy.]

Pursuing my anger
Has left me with more
Than my share,
More than I have wanted.

Welcoming the danger
Of the demands of spite
Has caused little amount of care
Amongst myself for others
And they for me
Our conclusion then
Is that of feeling hunted.

There is little as contrite
As hearts wounded by the silence
Hidden in the sleepless nights
Of lips forbidding
The passing of words of resolution.

And we are left with our defiance
My soul convulsing
At wounds you have caused
And your mind set
On preventing a revolution
Of peace between us.

For me to be troubled
That you consider me trouble
Someone you lack
Strength or desire
With which to struggle;
While forgiveness always asks,
Nay, demands,
Our rights to the grasps
We hold on our grudges,
Does not behoove wisdom
Or the Glory of our lives.

But on and on our days trudge
Followed more frighteningly
By our nights.

For two lives to become one
Two hearts must refuse
The pride of their separation,
Finding no excuse
A justified necessity
To remain undone.

We must consider
Who will be first
To break the curse
And begin reparations
At the expense of such exaltation
Of the pride of our own expectations.

Just how deliberate
Were your words
Or the lack thereof?
Will you ever accept
The honor of my intentions
And the truth of my love?

Tears must not be despised
Between us.

If there is ever to be
Any meaning of a union
Of you and I
We must learn
To accommodate, not our miseries,
But our honesties.

I do not consider
Your silence hearsay
But only warrant a chance
To offer my understanding
Of your reasonings
And allow their countenance
To face the light
Sown by the truth.

Surely you are not
Among them
Who proffer their heart
To the highest bidder
To the longest dance.
For no matter the malpractice
Of those you have
Granted a say
On so severe a matter,
There is but one man
Who will be left standing
One heart once offered
And rejected
Who will come to matter.

Who beckoned to you
To flee from me?
Whose deception
Caused me to incur
All of your wrath?

And now,
Are you left
With what you want
Or is there more beyond
Just what you have?

How can the fires
Of hatred burn
For one who
Gave you nothing but love
One who esteemed
The needs of your life,
The happiness of your heart
Above even his own desires?

How can the dead of winter
Define the season
We are in
When it is but the spring
Of our knowledge
Of each other?

The remainder of your wrath
Does not become you
Or benefit me.

I beseech you
Offer your voice not
Over to idle and evil thoughts.
Let us permit a Spirit
Stronger than our determinations
To rescue us from our destructions;
That the beauty
Of the Most Beautiful Heart
May illumine all we are.

For the bitterness
I have defended you against
Is assuredly defeated;
And the months
Will not welcome
The end of my desire,
But only serve to warm the fire
Found beating
In me for you.

The remainder of my wrath
Is not to condemn
The heart it longs to love
But to give in its place
Much adoration and praise
To the One which we both have,
To show not my groveling
Or an attitude concerning you
Wailing beyond its days.

No, I have nothing

Not yesterday,
Not this day,
Or among any of those to come

Save gratitude
To God
For you.