Edit - On His Lady's Anger At His Politics

[dukealien]

On His Lady's Anger At His Politics


Our trouble with your hatred, love of mine,
is not its menace or my pain it gives–
but that dark innocence in which it lives,
ascribing malice which in truth is thine.

You cut and browbeat, dear; I merely pine
for times when there were soft alternatives
to argument and silence, adjectives
that gleamed with humor, wit shared over wine.

How can I let you see what you will not,
without becoming mirror to your vice
of mad denunciations, choking tears?
Calm, showing there's no evil, leering plot
abroad, but strength to wait until time’s dice
roll smiles again in place of phantom fears.

Our trouble with your hatred, lady mine,
is not its menace or my pain it gives–
but that dark innocence in which it lives,
ascribing malice which is only thine.

You cut and browbeat, love; I merely pine
for times when there were soft alternatives
to argument and silence, adjectives
that dripped with humor, pearls of wit divine.

How can I let you see what you will not,
without becoming mirror to your vice
of mad denunciation, silent tears?
Calm, showing there's no evil, leering plot
abroad, but strength to wait and cast fate's dice–
with hope you'll waken, sane, in days or years.

Originally written two weeks ago as a practice sonnet, but seems apropos now.  The "solution" in its the problem-solution scheme is, admittedly, weak in real-world terms.