The Scars Remain

The Grapes of Wrack

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

As fruit unplucked will wither on the vine –
Abandoned to burn in a sun of shame,
Then fester and fall – an untasted wine,
So can love denied rot the heart, and maim
A soul. Neglect will corrupt affection,
Provoking a disease incurable;
Leaving all blackened by the infection
Of doubt – oft’ leading to an unstable
Mind. But, though ruined, crops can rise again,
Or serve to fertilize fields left fallow;
The passage of time can mitigate pain,
Allowing ripened spirits to mellow.
   When passion lies wracked in shadows of gloom,
   It will seek out light to renew its bloom.

Immunity

For "Her."

The poison of thy rejection has proofed
My heart 'gainst love's trick – asking sacrifice
Of everything for naught – and left aloof
A spirit shamed; being too oft' enticed
To lunacy. While flames which once tempered
The steel of passion have been extinguished –
Drowned beneath an ocean of tears offered
In vain – I rise now shielded by anguish.
Although my soul is filled with discontent,
Like some disease endured, I'll grow inured
To further ills. And, affections now rent
Will serve as catalyst for future cure.
   I'll evermore use pain's propinquity
   To fortify hard-won immunity.