Equivocations

[danetyler]

As I interpret an open wound,
I find that ambiguity
breeds fear and comfort
in equal measures,
vacillate between stark alternatives:

Pain can inoculate.
Pain can annihilate.

All night long,
I have sat in this bleak garden
as the throbbing throng
of an importunate chorus
accosts me,
bends my ear to incoherencies.

But the trees, meanwhile,
are insufferably stoic,
black mountains carved
from a lesser darkness.
Infinitely impudent,
they declare nothing.

I know, now, that need
is not quite belief,
nor grief love,
know that it is useless
to ponder
the fixed stars that govern
this life.