Bare of Foot

Our world is but a pane of glass And I have seen the Grim Reaper Lift a wearied hand with a stone -- With little restraint to keep her. For in a dream she showed herself, Boring her terrible eyes in me, While neither young nor old, or plain Or handsome did she choose to be, But bare of foot and draped in gloom We stood looking across a road, I noticing how she was swathed In the black of night where she strode. A seamless gown, the same fabric Crossed atop her head like the sight One would see the Virgin Mary Sport beneath a starry crown's light. But her eyes, her eyes, frightened me As they locked on mine with intent; As she started coming my way With all that she could represent . . . So, I'll reiterate, our world's As fragile as our very life, Where many vandals are at play With fire and stones of brass at strife To kill senselessly without thought And deny we have soul and choice To save others 'fore it's too late And a scream becomes every voice.