A Living Spear

A villanelle.

I am hate, and I am fear.
All come to face me when time does permit
I am the willow in the morning clear.

I arch, a dancer beside the pier
overlooking the ocean, dark and moonlit
I am hate, and I am fear.

Swaying in the night so drear,

You carve initials fake, counterfeit;

I am the willow in the morning clear.

From my limbs you carve that spear

And use it to rule your glorious ambit.

I am hate, and I am fear.

I tell the man I will take penance next year,

And the next year his soul I split.

I am hate, and I am fear;

I am the willow in the morning clear.