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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