Between the shadow and light: A villanelle

Sometimes hope doesn’t find its way to the darkest places
where amidst the ash and grain, we try to rebuild
of love and ardour, there aren’t any traces

I hate that we’ve become this couple with many faces,
so obstinate and irritatingly self-willed
sometimes hope doesn’t find its way to the darkest places

To unconcerned providence, I plead my many cases
hoping by and by that I’ll find purpose and feel fulfilled
of love and ardour, there aren’t any traces

We’ve lost faith and plummeted from God’s good graces –
sated with ill will and totally unfulfilled
sometimes hope doesn’t find its way to the darkest places

Whatever happened to forever and fond embraces
the mirror reveals affection, tortured and fiercely killed
of love and ardour, there aren’t any traces

Once I held you close in those perfect spaces
between the shadow and light, both of us, strong-willed
but sometimes, hope doesn’t find its way to the darkest places
of love and ardour, there aren’t any traces.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: