Betrayal

And away from the sonnet sequence again! This poem (written a year ago) was a challenge from a friend of mine. She provided the end-words, and I had to fill in the rest.

I only delve into my thoughts by night
For fear that my face reveals them by day.
I trust you to warn me, my dearest friend,
For I would hide my thoughts from my enemy.
I would not wish to hurt those whom I love;
I would not wish to cause pain to my lord.

I confess I am uncertain of my lord.
He rarely comes to me to pass the night.
It seems he has no desire for my love.
He is courteous but distant by day
Sometimes I wonder who is my enemy;
Sometimes I wonder who I can call friend.

I could never doubt that you are my friend;
You help me see the good things in my lord,
You helped me identify my enemy.
It is only when I am alone by night
That I doubt all I have learned by day;
That I doubt all I thought I knew of love

As a child, I dreamed I would marry for love.
Did you not do the same, dear friend?
But now I have small pleasure in my day.
No matter what dishes I prepare for my lord,
He refuses to eat them, night after night,
Taking only food made by my enemy.

For we are taught: unto your enemy
You must offer your forgiving love.
I struggle with this as I pray at night,
For whom can I love but my one true friend;
For whom can I love but my legal lord.
Gladly I take up duties through the day.

I embroider in the solar by day
And do my best to dodge my enemy,
Who is no more than a spy for my lord
And also his mistress. I see your love
Of food is thickening your waist, my friend.
Are you sure that's where my lord spends his night?

Each day follows another lonely night.
Pray take the enemy away, my friend,
So I will not see my lord with his love.

Sonnet 17

If you, my dear, were guardian of the sea that roars,
Subjecting my poor island to your pounding waves,
This choice I could have: yielding to your flood that pours
O’er me, like the deluge, or to retain my ways.
Immovable though I may seem to you, I fear
Becoming so immersed it makes my life seem dim.
O take not my unwav’ring life from me, my dear.
Hold me, and do not drown me, as I learn to swim.
Above all else, I fear that I would cease to be;
Retreating from the battering force of your great tide;
When, with a quaking movement, feel you smother me.
Attempts to stand my ground all stem from hollow pride.
Of all these petty fears I have that could come true:
Far worse to learn you love me not, as I love you.