Ghosts – Joan of Arc

Seeking sanctuary from the burn

I enter her cold and holy dance,

and am unmasked, and frozen

between unseen armor

and tundric nakedness

as she avalanches

to a purer love.

She moves in fires I cannot enter

and consumes my night in flames.

She pours herself through me,

a radiant and smoldering lava

scorching a charcoal path

on which I follow

her bright beauty.

There is mystery in her conflagration

binding me with smoky tongues

and releasing me in blinding light.

Her immaculate impossibility remains

and I am fused forever

to this sighing ghost

of ash and passion.

painting and poem by clinock