HUNDREDS #18/100: "Red-Winged Blackbird"

We struggle on against faltering winds and we sing:

The discord harvests ash,

Dispersed amid the clash.

Her limbs bare in bare limbs,

Disquieted and brash.

I’ll resent in 

Her ascent but 

Still our hearts are embers.

A love, a scorn, a fight.

A lover born in spite.

My fists to gather stones,

As scarlet wings take flight.

I’ll relent in 

Her descent but 

Our hearts won’t remember.

Her upturned palms outstretched,

When all that I have left,

Is a bone deep death’s head,

That she herself has etched. 

I’ll repent in 

Her lament and 

Our hearts will be cinders.