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Darkened Doorways


He’d walked this trail in dreams before
sniffed hungrily at each locked door
across the country shore to shore
from rocky coasts to mountains core
felt the populations sigh
huddling in fear of breaking dawns
their children used as rulers pawns
white crosses dotting barren lawns
while grieving mothers slowly die.

Although he saw the sadness grow
he walked no faster, nor more slow
for it was not his job to know
which way the fatal wind might blow
just march in flowing cape of black
cast his shadow on their fate
unmindful of their time or date
or those who stand alone and wait
nor count the ones not coming back.

For he alone with sharpened scythe
carries his darkness through the light
that cries to those in spirits fright
in tunnel visions final sight
dimming the light of then and now
erasing all that might have been
forgiving all of final sin
that death will someday lose, not win
death’s scythe and cape take final bow.


for Isaiah Zerbst - The Lady of Shalott – Poetry contest
9/9/2014

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