Memoria, a Poem

You need not weather that which you are,
for no serenity lay in the eye of me. 


Rest and calamity’s melodies echo the same

from the blackbird’s song in my ribcage.


I know your heart—I have seen it beat—
in innocence and wanton heat.

This whisper is my cry of war,
the same eulogy
 on its day of birth.



I thrive in every army and punctured saint

that shadow no man nor woman can tame.



I know your heart—I have seen it beat—

in all its knowing and all its shame.