Lunatic

I'm a lunatic tonight.
Driven mad by the moon,
I measure love in lumps of loss.
They rise up at me these losses;
like pale-faced demons from graves dug deep
they claw at me to be heard. It's as if they
never meant to leave this immortal sadness;
as if they keenly feel the weight of their own humanity.
Lost, but never forgotten it burns them
like fire from the sun. Be still! I say
And leave me! But they want me to stake them with forgiveness.
In the shaddow of the moon they sit and beckon silently
asking, always asking for release.
And this is why I'm a jumping, howling, mad woman;
to lose the loss, is madness made complete.