At the Crossroads
At the crossroads
were once left offerings
to the goddess of ghosts
Hecate with her keys
At the crossroads
were once buried the bodies
of criminals and those
who chose to commit suicide
considered unworthy to be laid to rest
in the hallowed earth of a cemetery
their spirits left to wander
aimlessly for eternity
At the crossroads
Robert Johnson fell to his knees
unable to hitch a ride
as the sun sank low in the sky
fearing he would die hanging from a tree
or maybe he sold his soul to Satan there
depending on the story
At the crossroads
I stand at midnight under the milky moon
singing my own song of heartache
waiting for some sign from the divine
to tell me which path to take
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
