make me understand clearly
why Turkish warriors
scratched out the eyes of the icons
before looting treasure from ancient churches.
Haunted in the dark, cool, candlelit spaces-
(muscles gleaming, armor intact,
dagger clutched in hairy fist)
by the reflection in your eyes
of their own guilt.
Those dark pools of light that cause me
to forget who I am-
aware only that here is a door into
something infinitely greater than
my own white-washed tomb of a heart.
by Kristen McCarty - found at the matthew's project website
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