Take Her, Lift Her, Look at Her

by Marzia Dessi

Take her, lift her, look at her

Hidden spirits, injured and

upward ghostly,

unknown dreams,

told beneath the flames.

Take her, lift her, look at her-

Her body is an ornament-

Touch her, think of her,

now pure, free of scrutiny.

Past dishonored but still fair for the rarity.

Lamps quiver, a light houseless-

The bleak wind ends it.

A picture untaken, to rigid-

So blindly known to darkness,

burning her hands on a cold flame.

Happy Sad immorality, her evil, her sins

The dream of happy gamesome minds,

turning apart, leaning on black stoned walls.

Take her, lift her, look at her.

Read from the book.

The black one with the golden trimming.

Feet upright, some historic pages;

Read those-

The ones on suffering, on grief-

Speaking to all times and all life.