The Prisoners

Enclosed in this disturbing mutual wood,
Wounded alike by thorns of the same tree,
We seek in hopeless war each other’s blood
Though suffering in one identity.
Each to the other prey and huntsman known,
Still driven together, lonelier that alone.

Strange mating of the loser and the lost!
With faces stiff as mourners’, we intrude
Forever on the one each turns from most,
Each wandering in a double solitude.
The unpurged ghosts of passion bound by pride
Who wake in isolation, side by side.