On A River Torn Poem by Barry Middleton

Torn between hedonist and priest,
half begging you to take my hand,
half believing in love and giving,
the other half disgusted, screams
less pain, less journey, less love.

I come to seek this wide water,
a comfort of silence and peace.
A bride of serenity and despair
beckons me to a dark cabin
where I steel myself and heal.

The rage of the world washes by
in the bloodless river hidden.
Safe, silent, walled from love,
I am insular; no hatred invades
the safety of my island totem.

Where once I dreamed of water,
a desiccated wasteland spirit calls.
The waters pass by at their pace.
I burn docks and pray in shadow:
conceal me from blood, from flesh.