The Law of Moses
By Sarah Madsen

Hands at the wrist
tightly wound about—
not like the cover
that so loosely droops
at the shoulders…
Deeds worn on the sleeves
are more hidden than mine.
Dragged and dropped
at the base of those steps
I dare not lift my eyes;
for sandaled feet sit
before those that let fall
so shameful a state.
Shouts of justice reach
beyond ears; but I am
blind to all but the
sand beneath my body.
Fingers like flame
engrave words,
which I so desperately
want to know
upon the ground—
below a trembling heart—
Stops the rhythm
when silence cuts the air
with its taunting sharpness.
But He threw no stones…

----

Broken Mirror
By Sarah Madsen

At last I have found her,
beneath shards of glass
she lies.
I bring her to my arms,
pressing her body next to mine,
and weep gently.
Oh, these walls, these walls
that were once white—
now dark…
Darker than the stones of Petra
comes each flow,
from blades of silver.
Every taut grasp
leaves crimson ribbons on
my hands—I can’t let go.
Softly, then sharply,
each breath from inside me
is drawn…
I had forgotten her beauty.

----

Eidolon
By Sarah Madsen

He walks the catacombs,
unable to find a resting place
so many dead [listless]
In words stolen from stars
he is led–through a labyrinth
searching for a resolution–
for healing–
yet never like Lazarus to return…
Unable to find peace.
Skeletons in the cavity of the mind
leave unsettling fear
Darkness permeates all hope,
as if a worm in the dirt.
And with dawn’s sweetness
shrouded
his torment is a torrent
of wanting.

----

By a sleep to say we end the heartache
By Sarah Madsen

Crawling between earth and heaven,
scattered flowers ‘cross the floor
colour loneliness
with riddles and rhymes
incapable of her own distress.

Hey non nony nony
“to be or not to be”
Beauty made madness of the beast
none of us believed.

One woe doth tread
upon the other’s heel.
And will he not come again?

She looked into the water,
where the willows grow,
and plunged into Ophelia’s river
now lost, never recovered.
Know she did love you once.

----

Darius and the Lion
By Sarah Madsen

Am I Darius that I would be deceived?
So quickly led astray by the words of others...
the darkest fruit is that born of
greed--its seed planted in the heart
of ill standing.

I am not of sound mind
for my own thoughts betray me.
How should I be expected to lead
if even I know not where I am going?

Teetering on the edge of bliss
or disaster;
I fall wherever the wind blows.
Will this tangled web that I have woven
catch me when I go down?
To undo what I have done
seems impossible.

Second thoughts--
if only they were first
My own ring's seal seems
to be my curse.
By nightfall I lay awake with regret;
surely morning finds noc chance
for retraction.

But, O, the joy of discovering
that the prowling lion
has not killed my redeeming grace.
Though my waivering soul
falters, rescue has granted
sweet reprieve.

----

Grain Offering For Jealousy
By Sarah Madsen

Sin is not the apple,
it is the sour sting
on the tounge of the tresspasser.
No longer green-once blue, perhaps-
envy covers the ground in crimson.

And my longing turned to greed
while my rapture-to dark sounds
of a beating heart filled with malice.
Desire costs an ounce of gold
yet damnation its equal in stone.

On Jacob’s ladder, the wooden square-
perpetually falling downwards-
towards the West Bank (where covetousness
unwittingly creates opportunity costs to rise)
lies my only birthright , forfeited.

In its stead the supply and demand
of holy wars. And innocent hands bleed
the joy of being right.
Their tens of thousands overshadow
my only thousands feat.

Contrition’s contusions barely visible on
my skin, now a wolf in martyred sheep’s clothing
In tasting avarice I have found
I was never my brother’s keeper;
I keep only the vile scar on my head.

Surely Faust is not correct to think
that mercy awaits the cursed?
This evil is a palindrome, I feel
for me no justification…
But there’s a blood that is better than Abel’s-
a jealousy more virtuous than vindication.

----

Babel
By Sarah Madsen

Eastward she moves,
further from understanding,
closer to Babel, though
eloquence never had a more
beautiful form;
tangled tongue, tangled mind.

That which cannot be known--
only admired for abstraction.
A Mona Lisa whose mystery
would be spoken
if behind that smile it didn't hide.

No modern myth, or ancient adage;
simply languages unwritten
need describe what plaugues inside.
Every song, each emotion
entire mountains, or whole oceans
cannot lend devotion to her heart.

She'll enrapture those who'll listen
with words that she is not
or build a thousand temples,
speaking stones soon forgotten.
Unstable a structure, confusion grows
with her tower. Silence---
before you're divided further.

----

Juliana
By Sarah Madsen

There is a boat I love
she takes me to new places,
keeping time with the waves
made by each bend of her bow.
Over the water she glides
as though she had the
wings of an eagle...
As reliable as the tide
the sleek black of her side
shines.
The sun warms a face,
freckled with the wisdom
only age can bring---
and I imagine a smile
Prettier than a pair of
pearl earrings.
In her I see adventure
and the memory of those past.
It is said old sailors
love the ocean; its salt
runs through their blood--
a wife is their mistress
and a ship the true love...
But I know not of old sailors
or tails of the sea...
And while I'm captain of
my boat
she has captivated me.

----

Resurfacing
By Sarah Madsen

The hardest part is resurfacing.
Drowning--I do not know
which way is up.
My lungs, heaving, burn
with these salt tears' flow;
hidden amongst a vast ocean.

Seaweed fingers grope at
my throat, about my neck...
I choke on my own
inferior air.
As I get deeper between
undersea mountains,
do I see the sun, or perhaps
refracted rays? No--
just forgotten florescent demons.

My eyes sting of a gray
water as murky as
my own thoughts.
Feel pressure on this heart.

The surface--it has been
so long
but surrender to the dark...
I'll drown because
it is myself I cannot stand.
Drowning is easy.
The hardest part is
resurfacing.

----

Lazarus
By Sarah Madsen

Awaken ideas once dead--
Renew an imagination
that dared to dream
of places beyond reach;
Like a yellow dandelion
flower turns to white,
Breathe on me
and let new life spring
from what was silent.
Modern medicince may
keep one from dying
But you're crying tears
of compassion--
Water my soul
as no other river can.

----

Outside the Camp
By Sarah Madsen

I have been called to meet Him
outside the camp
though I do not know the way
standing at the city gate
afraid--afraid I shan't return;
so I will take my coffin with me
a chance to die...
They have sent Him to die alone
like a lepper; but a lamb
for the slaughter.
Around us are tall walls
fortified with a fear
of what's beyond our borders,
for here we have no lasting city
but the walls remain...
A love we will not claim
outside the camp

----

Harlot
By Sarah Madsen

Street corners are squares
divided.
Cold, damp stones
lie beneath the trains
that run slower than
the needles in each vein.
Blake’s London is black--
like the polluted river’s flow,
it glistens with the eyes
of other lovers—
they call familiar poisons
and sweet intoxications
to the addict’s lustful hunger.
And tearful sorrow feels
the cheapened weight of
gold circles…
But pay 15 shekels—
And cast no stones.

----

Mirror, Mirror
By Sarah Madsen

Alice never had a looking glass
quite like mine.

A world of untouchable words
where the mirror caught sounds
and turned them into silence--
stolen from the lips of the lost,
who drown in reflections of light,
only to become dissappointed.

And perhaps things are best left
to akward silences
instead of vain shouts
ignored by the spot of
well-worn silver and glass.

He is loyal to keep my
frame etched into his face.
But I have slowly let it fade
into nothing more than
a vacant shell for shallow
waters.
I drown with the others;
but he hides the waving of my arms well.

----

Lady
By Sarah Madsen

I caught the first lines of her pain tonight
glimpses had passed in front of me
like shadows—
silhouettes of those deeper somethings
that you want to know but you never
wanted to grasp yourself.
But the soul was finally willing to concede.
And though lady says clever things and
dreams beautifully in bright colors,
I’m still haunted by her words
that escape those crimson lips.
I want so badly to share in every fear,
as if I could help by understanding
that which I can’t understand.
O, bloody innocence!
Each disfigurement is only a frame
for the memories that we’ll leave
to be forgotten as the dust on old pictures.
But the scars—
the scars remain.

----

 

Nightingale
By Sarah Madsen

Captivity is not justified by exhibition.
I endure not enclosed,
but free to sing the song
of angels.
Oh, sweet ambrosia—
my voice enraptures the romantic,
whose thoughts of being alone
are soon abandoned
with the closing of eyes.
But I remain
forlorn, with a thorn
pressed against my chest,
I croon all night to keep myself awake.
But if I asked you to,
Would you be my lullaby?
Could you make me drift to sleep?
Lay me down gently,
as I breathe in deep, careful,
for a nest so easily broken
is where I slumber.

----

Evermore
By Sarah Madsen

You in the shadows, you in the dark,
hiding 'tween blackness and figures most stark

come into the sunshine, come into the light
e'er forget the despair that enshrouds you in night

lurking forever in an oft' hopeless estate
I come to rescue from the meanest of fate

of evil, most grim, treachery untold,
it's you who now in these arms I hold

suffer the tears, for you've borne the pain
know to you twill ne'er happen again

for I have you wrapped tightly, safe and secure
evermore, evermore, with me you'll endure.