Shoulder the veil, the thin
lacy shroud, hiding my face
from the many on-viewers;
carry it away on a white horse
at sunset; kiss it so sweetly, like an
elegant swan.
Perhaps you’ll find love with it,
the symbol I hold; perhaps
you won’t regret the time
you’ve taken to smooth
its creases and edges,
to iron its back; perhaps
you can hold it at night, whispering
soft words, stroking its fabric,
dreaming of a world better for all.
Maybe one day you’ll reach an agreement,
a place near the middle where it’s
not a mistake to
pick apart the catalogue, searching
the pages, selecting the beautiful piece;
maybe one day the veil won’t resent you,
will come to love you,
will stop dreaming of a world left behind;
maybe one day it won’t be about lust,
but a love gently kindled,
smoldering until the ashes go bleak.
But until that day, don’t expect a
warm welcome, a kiss on arrival, kind
eyes of approval; endangered hearts are fragile
to the touch, so don’t play around, don’t tip the
scales, don’t bounce the rug around the den;
wrap that thin veil in a veil of its own,
a veil of tenderness despite the rough edges;
a veil of loveliness despite ragged tears;
a veil of oneness despite separate lives.
Shoulder the veil, or please, my dear, run;
bury the satin dress bought at expense;
burn down the flowers you chose for
they bring out my blue eyes and brown hair and
glowing white skin; shoulder the veil, because without it
you’re alone; for I won’t be bought,
not a mail-order bride.
"Veil" made me think of "Bride".
awesome job.