My brother, the warrior,
died on a distant battlefield.
His wife sleeps in the garden tonight
on a blanket by the pond,
she’s my woman now.
Gave herself to me
but for her heart
and a memory that can’t be erased,
when nature’s war thundered overhead.
In moonlight she’s a statue of ebony
with a Janus’ mask of hidden longings
She dreams and smiles,
a beam from a heart full of love
for her warrior’s shadow,
as clouds drift passed the moon.
Awakes when the fiend, in the nursery, cries.
I have seen those eyes before
and know that my brother will never die.