Beautiful Horror Of Death

Beautiful Horror Of Death
© Surazeus
2023 05 18

Charlotte stops on the wagon-rutted road 
in the wheatfield west of low pine-spiked hills, 
and watches sunlight gleam gold in thin puddles 
splattered by raindrops after thunderstorm 
explains that nothing matters in her heart, 
then smiles at beautiful horror of death. 

Long strands of her gold hair sinuate in wind 
in curving tandem with thin stalks of wheat 
that undulate through flash of her gray eyes 
reflecting somber clouds that spiral bright 
thick as her mane over hills of her breasts 
that heave at beautiful horror of death. 

Turning back at thin wail of desperate hope 
with mercurial angst of the wounded wolf, 
Charlotte asserts her eyes to verify 
terrible sight that pierced her heart with fear, 
her love Wulfstan shot by arrows of hate 
that bleed at beautiful horror of death. 

Bare feet sucked by soul-hungry muck of Earth, 
Charlotte runs back against steel gusts of wind 
to tend her wounded wolf with trembling hands, 
shot by arrows her father fired in rage 
as they flee to marry far from his sword 
that rings at beautiful horror of death. 

Shivering as she kneels by wounded Wulf, 
Charlotte gasps for breath with dizzy surprise 
while gazing in green eyes of fierce desire, 
then touches arrow that pierces his heart, 
shocked that she may lose the good man she loves, 
then weeps at beautiful horror of death. 

When you let go my hand as we escaped, 
running down rain-soaked road of eager faith, 
I felt the unseen bond between our hearts 
break at the severance of your trust in me, 
so we fall lost in cold indifferent rain 
that glows at beautiful horror of death. 

When her father grasps her delicate hand 
and drags her away from her wounded wolf, 
Charlotte screams and stumbles on slippery road, 
yet tries to look back at his hopeless eyes 
that flicker blank in sleet of careless rain 
that howls at beautiful horror of death. 

Slouched by crackling flames in warm glowing hearth, 
Charlotte stares down at the half-eaten pear, 
that rots in her hand, with forlorn despair, 
heart numb from enduring pain of his loss, 
then starts at sudden sweet song of the sparrow 
that tweets at beautiful horror of death.