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Sabella: ... (warning, poetry)
Fri Apr 6 17:16:27 2001
To: all who read poetry sorts of things

like the washer at the ford
i scrub but
the stains stay
the black gray scorch of fire
the sanguine of blood
imprinted on responsible hands
cringing as memories flood over
the shocked faces
the smoke
the tears
my exhultant laughter
cruel and cold
then He appeared
bright and terrible
like the flash of light
amidst the roiling clouds
given oaths were His armor
righteous anger His blade
but i felt the inner flame
i knew His need
sensed His dark beast
trembled at that predator
chained within His breast
with a touch He shattered
the facade the mask the illusions
the seeming of what i wore like a dress
shredded it away leaving me naked
before that knowing gaze
He found her
that girl i hid so long ago
thought dead
thought buried alive in ash and dispair
He dragged her kicking and screaming
into the light
i fled that day
but could not outrun
the terrible knowledge
awoken by His kiss

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