Found Poem Sonnet

I found a poem, the struggle softly sad,
and gracious was her contemplation felt--
to question power, balance heart and head,
the subtle sins and demons jealous, held.

Death tolls, last butterflies await
desire feared and judged, erotic charge,
our own aliveness searching for delight,
serve, and cling, and cleave, its fire large.

To see, and live, true being of the dead,
cannot control our breath, our state, the melt
of self and soul, mysterious madness, hate
the hate of you. Step up and join life's march.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2018