The night quickens
As lovers too long parted
Meet beneath a starry, moonless sky.
Their fingers tremble
As they touch,
Seeking, stroking, caressing
As if blind;
Yet these clandestine moments
Remain silent
Lest dissenting ears should hear,
And prying eyes should see,
And disaster then befall
Their forbidden union.
How they long for the freedom
To meet one another
Beneath a benevolent sun,
To know no reprisal,
To love openly as God intended.
How they long
To declare themselves One
Before family, before friends,
Within a holy place.
But, for now, it cannot be;
So they steal these hours
From the night,
And within the fragile cloak
Of secrecy
Renew the whispered vows
They have forged
With each furtive beat
Of their hearts.
A very impassioned description of the life of so many in forbidden love who must find ways, usually in the dark of night, to fulfill that love without having an opportunity to share it the light of day with the people around them.
I will gladly shame every church, every law, and every dictator that thinks that his or their spoken or written word makes this form of love taboo. Makes me wonder when, we as a people, will no longer bow down to false pretense and hatred innocence expressed in loving ways.
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I will gladly shame every church, every law, and every dictator that thinks that his or their spoken or written word makes this form of love taboo. Makes me wonder when, we as a people, will no longer bow down to false pretense and hatred innocence expressed in loving ways.
Ron
Sandie