her silence was more vociferous yet
and it stung me deeper than words might reach
cutting life itself in chunks from my heart
with scissors of metaphor and contempt
dispassion and ennui . . . her cruelty
shone insane in eyes full of sky and rheum.
and I, who believe in no evil, who
believed not in devils nor demons, but
rather in the fallibility of human
reason and action, who believe in truth
and beauty . . . from her eyes I came to know
evil . . . is not a force of offense, rather
it is the heart’s insistence on death as
recompense for slights and disagreement.
David M Pitchford
26 Oct 2011