In Time, in Love

She opens her eyes:    the glorious world.
She closes her eyes:    her wonderful dreams.
A question rises,    why is death in life?
She lies on her bed;    he touches her hair.
Embracing his touch,    he is a vision.
She cries in her breath;    she yearns in her heart.
A question rises,    is he in her life?
Her parents answer,    God is in our dreams.
She prays to this God,    let me do thy will.
Her thoughts are silent;    her confidence grows:
He will seek her touch    while she follows joy.
Each day has its night,    all lights their shadows.
Joys are confusing;    more questions arise.
Answers come in dreams,    no answers at all.
Is God an image?    is truth in her hope?
She hears a new song,    silent melody.
Joy in solitude    enchants her daydreams.
He knocks at her door;    she opens, surprised.
He holds out his hand;    music softly fades.
He touches her hand;    she retreats inside.
Anger grips his heart,    she sees in his eyes.
Consciously struggling,    he wounds his heart.
His wound rends her heart;    she takes up his hand.
Her touch is burning;    her touch is a trap.
He leaves her, he flees;    he leaves her anguish.
Her broken heart breaks;    her body is ill.
Her parents seek help;    she keeps her secrets.
Her own dreams mock her;    her nightmare, a self.
Her simple faith dies    in a simple faith.
She prays to WHO IS,    let thy will be done.
No one knows her heart    but he who left her.
She accepts her will    and struggles to find
Meaning in each day;    her loves takes a form.
She weaves quietly,    her grandmother's art.
She hears of his deeds,    sees in them her love.
She listens with pain;    blue music holds her.
Each blanket she weaves,    she weaves for his warmth:
Blankets others buy;    her work grows forlorn.
She prays to her God,    and her prayers echo
In the empty room    of her empty heart.
"I want to see you,"    he speaks in a rush.
"I have fought with Sin.    I have conquered it.
In myself, I mean."    His wild eyes enlarge
With desire of her.    She stops her stunned thoughts,
Then draws him to her    and kisses his lips.
He kisses her face,    then says, "I must go."
She nods, "I know, yes."    He leaves in the night
With her heart in his.    She aches in her dreams
To die, soon, in his.    Her bed is a rack.
In her days she dies.    She hears of bad deeds
She knows are not his,    yet his sins' revenge..
Her parents deplore    his ruined young life.
She retreats from them    and from the world's eye
While she weaves blankets    with designs of love
Subtle, red and gold,    defiant and grim.
Her tears are her smiles,    while despising praise.
At night what music    envelops the stars?
Her prayers die like    steams extinguishing love.
"I am just a man."    She wakes to his face:
As plain as the day    as real as the sun.
"Will you be my wife?"    His question echoes.
His care is his life.    His life waits on her.
"I will be your wife."    Her parents agree.
Taking his warm hand    she walks forth in love.