Cold wind the mountain breaks
as it crashes on the stone
though years may bring the mountain down
it doesn’t go alone.
The hammer bends the earthly ore
with the aid of heat
and though the ore bears all the blows
it’s stronger through defeat.
Grief leaves scars within our souls
writhing rivets of deep pain
and sometimes we fear
we won’t be whole again.
But dawn will tear the night apart
and daylight finds the darkest hearts.
“You promised,” he whispered
into a night devoid of stars.
You promised. He shivered
beside the freeway of whistling cars.
“You promised,” he accused
as tears welled up in his eyes.
“You promised,” he sobbed
with no one to hold him as he cried.
You promised. He despaired
when he gave up the fight.
You promised. He surrendered
himself up to the night.
“You promised,” he dreamed
and woke to find her by his side.
I check my cell phone regularly
and with increasing frequency
and watch the time just slip away,
wandering what you have to say.
Eventually this dread disease
of wandering what to say to please
saps my strength with its fell fever
yet I cannot bring myself to leave her.
Now every single unsaid word
carries silence like a sword
and a noose of pitch-black rope
woven from my shattered hope.
But by the time his phone was ringing
his body had long-since stopped swinging.
I’m strong when you are weak,
brave when you are meek,
bold when you are shy,
and hold you when you cry.
I am my lady’s champion,
her lover, and companion.
You’ll find no other quite like me -
an epitome of gallantry.
But service comes with a steep cost
and the marks of what he’s lost
criss-cross underneath his mail,
marking all the times he failed.
And few will know how much he grieves
for being not as strong as she believes.
I’m sorry you were hurt
charging deep into the fray -
the two dozen other people
were getting in the way.
So sorry that the fire
left you with a burn
but there were just so many
that you had to wait your turn.
It’s a pity that their General
beat you black and blue;
perhaps if you’d been careful
he would have ignored you.
Maybe you should learn to fight
instead of blaming me tonight.
We are those who go bump in the night:
the shadows on the wall, the small child’s fright.
We’ll terrorize you to our delight
before swallowing up the last of the light.
We are the shades who hunt the line
between our world and that of thine.
On sweetest sins we nightly dine,
a desecration quite divine.
We have lived long through the ages
and lurked between your fables’ pages.
We’ve supped upon your finest sages
and shouldered your worst warriors’ rages.
The time has come; your end is nigh
as our wings blot out the sky.
You’re stumble, mumble fumbling,
so messed up that you’re tumbling
down heights and hills and high ways -
but please steer clear of my ways.
Your noxious scent’s quite petulant,
your manners aren’t quite heaven-sent,
and your broken bones are jonesin’
with gangrene fermentosin’.
Your slack-jawed face that lacks awe
has seen the wrong side of a hacksaw
and you lost your ear right over ‘ere
and I think I can see your derriere…
Well…I’ll do God’s work and put you down
with a bullet right upon your crown.
