The Piercing Seamstress - Poem by Milly Hunter
Within this flamboyant heart, not shy of love,
I have never prayed for a mate to the father above,
That one might tame my vanity and pride.
Though trials have passed me unscathed,
In pain and obscurity my heart would bathe.
Quite secure, was I-, that I’d have destiny's ride.
Predetermined from Rainbow skies…
As when every answer killed the why.
Till the brass of one’s heart can no longer abide.
He dwelled in that land, his place of ghosts,
Where love before her transformed to dulled host.
There again, he felt love would never reside.
Odd that he could not speak my name, or barely even whisper;
Yet he did smile sweetly, opening for “the Seamstress Piercer.”
I would smile each time as he walked away dreaming alive.
Three years, I waited always pondering this man with questions.
Was I pretty enough for his taste? I’d ask of my mocking reflection.
His heart no longer allowed his proclamation of affection to subside.
He did see me once again; was it so long since the days back when?
His doubts brought his choice, by guilt, to walk-away; thinking he’d win.
Yet he requested a chance (though another remained) to adorn his side.
I once said yes- while guilt led him astray; my answer may still be yes.
For I know it was destiny's truelove in me, this indeed I must confess.
He is the part that could ever fit the fabric of my whole, here inside.
This gentleman, this king, this contrasting soul mate of my heart;
Still, those liberating eyes- as in my dreams from the start...
This fabric-scheme works truer, as each day's sun does arise.
No heroine am-I, or faint of heart, for this fallen angel of time.
As with each day I grow stronger in love's war, with its seasonal rhyme.
God hath blessed me with this dream- to last my inspired lifetime.
I was made me the Seamstress, for the piercing, of true-dreams “to be.”
God rewards obedience, for a better mate, making one thus complete.
Our story is told (stanzas of gold to ink) , from the 'sword of the Piercer.'
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