Burning Ice And Frozen Fire Poem by Diana van den Berg

They knew that evermores
were nevermores for them,
yet, they pined without respite.

They couldn’t fly with the same wings,
though they ached to,
because they would lose
the very essence of themselves
to which they both clung,
and
at least,
they had the dubious good sense
to escape
before it was
too late (too late for what?) ...

What they couldn’t do, however,
was to stop constantly looking back
over their shoulder
at the glory of the garden they left behind
and to which they had to return to meet in misty dreams.

(21 July 2011)