Grasping For Excuses
Lonely village, moonless night
Coal’s acrid odor, breath white
Meandering highway, the drunkard’s path
Clouded mind grasped for excuses from wrath
Unaware of the shadows
His eyes on the long road
Faint rustle of leaves, broke mind from it’s trance
In hallowed acre, apparitions danced
From corner of eye, glanced he
Naught but the night could he see
He stumbled forward not giving thought more
Until eerie crackle brought pimpled pores
His pulse and pace both quickened
Not from booze, he felt sickened
Past graveyard he slipped with recreant strides.
Closing eyes and letting memory guide
Into the wood his path led
More noises heard, his fear fed
Off to his left glinted a steel blade, bright
Down dark lane he ran, his legs making flight
Looking back as he bounded
Hoping fear was unfounded
Blinded by fear and the darkness of night
He tripped and fell to a macabre sight
A wet oily patch on road
Had caused his hopes to erode
As recognition of what lay before
The remnants of a former man, no more
Who it was he wasn’t sure
Face was gone, only a blur
A mangled mess, limbs de-sheathed and unpaired
Blood, bone and skin twisted beyond repair
Twin light orbs approaching fast
He waved and yelled, wheels went past
No notice paid by speeding traveler
The grisly scene left to drunken ambler
He starts to the task unplanned
Then sees a familiar hand
He knew at once who’d been following him
That glint was scythe of the reaper grim
Then thoughts changed to his demise
His life flashed before his eyes
And excuses he grasped to avoid the wrath
Of the One who would send him on southern path
1 April 17
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