The Visitor
Once upon a night so bleak,
frozen silent laid the creek --
air of death, pushed, swore
and swore...as if were fists
pounded the frail, wood door;
shutters noised, bolting and
banging; metal hinges oddly
clanging – cupboard glasses
adding more tumultuous tang,
as they, in vile unison, vibrantly rang…
suddenly, through frosted pane
I spied, crossing the blanketed
plane, a spirit like figure --
it crept upon sod’s snowy cover,
in rock’s shadow, paused, more
hovered! – of superstition I had
little fright...yet, a morbid stench
abscessed the night…
silence ensued more vociferous
than shout; I sat at the table,
candlelight flicker -- thoughts
wildly racing, quicker—aflicker!
of superstition had I little fright…
yet, a morbid stench abscessed
the night --
Then, the wind, first torment, now breeze,
began to whisper...my racing heart slowing
to near freeze. ‘This demon you did provoke and
invoke” ~ alas, no more it spoke. From hiding
again it sprung! Side to side, snow was flung.
For my cabin it plowed a path: with
haste I shuttered, in awe of this wrath!
Thus, moments passed...ones of dismay,
proceeded a knocking, some Thing seeking entree:
Who is it? (I inquired, door-bolt still fast)~ Hurry, state your
stand! What monster has this God forsaken night sired, trembling
a peaceful land -- fearless predators a-shrink in lairs -- evil
chill permeating the air -- what still-born agonies
have you come to bare? To which there was no reply --
Nor further from I. Followed another brief silence,
seething with violence. This silence continued but
fleeting moment more, ended by fury, the Devil
alone could spore: for on my door, it began to pound --
pounded and pounded, such tumult, how it sounded, and bounded
from wall to wall, from all to all! “Let me in!” it shouted, with fury,
with rage, “I would not be here, if not for your page” -- Let me in,
it continued to urge, door shackles weakening with each
new surge. Finally came one mighty thrust. Door-bolt
springing, flinging as it bust. Left in the doorway
midst whirling dust stood a figure, clad in black shroud,
puffing, snorting, animally bowed. Of no man had I this
depth of fear, nor sense of jeer. But this was not man,
in fact, ghoul! Restricted naught, by any flesh-rule. It eyed
my every move, as a fiend in stalk or taunt of
prey -- thus, I sensed my life, to be at bay.
But before I could stir a defense, slur my disdain
this grotesque courier of bane had lifted its shroud
and mockingly bowed. To my surprise,
although bereft of human form, conceived in some ogressly
norm...its face...absent of all but the slightest human trace,
yet...that face, that face!~ clearly shown...resemblance to my
own….
Copyright ©
Joe Dimino
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