A Crooked Sorrow

Canoe, golden brown inking rust colored depths, reflects the shape of my buried soul in rootless flight Grassy banks envelop the waters and root the hoary trees that are the ghostly spectres bending To reach for me with blackened toothed arms jaggedly carving silhouettes into the waning light Hush their soft murmuring, the rustle of their fading leaves the whispered voices of chis descending Melodiously they speak of the angst simmering from where the sinful spirits are beckoning The eclipsing moon’s tide that pulls the unhurried river meets the sullied shores of my reckoning The shadows of a godless eternity darkens the ancient seams of life and is slowly spreading