The Full Moon

With his back to the door,
seated, shrunken on the floor
in dim yellow light
and deep obsidian fright,
he listens to the heavy thuds
thumping hesitantly, unsteadily closer—
at odds with the beat of his heart
racing faster and harder.
The final footstep falls
just inches away from where he sits
and the door pushes against his back,
and as it opens he shuffles forwards.

And now he is running,
without looking back,
knowing too well what he’ll see.
In the distance he sees the full moon
that has brought the beast here,
and he runs towards the pale disc,
claws thrashing at his back.

Our brave adventurer runs on,
amongst the carcasses of those that went before,
those that could not outrun the beast,
could not evade its long arms,
but our hero is determined.
Ahead he sees salvation:
a black hole in the ground,
surrounded by gnarled, heavy roots.
If he can make it inside,
he’s sure the beast will not be able to follow.

The lion-hearted champion holds his breath—
he knows that timing is everything;
he steels himself, siezes his chance
and dives headlong towards the burrow,
not knowing what might lie therein
but sure nothing can be worse
than the beast on his tail.
He’s almost safe, almost escaped,
but he shrieks as he feels the thick roots
curling around his ankles.
Alive with evil—carniverous—they pull,
and he cannot resist their strength.

He is dragged from the tunnel,
arms outstretched towards hope,
losing his grasp more by the second.
Backwards he is hauled,
nothing more to be done,
and then the beast twists his body
to look at him.
He clamps his eyes shut,
to look is to give the beast what it wants,
and though he knows he has lost,
he refuses to give himself up.

He hears that dreadful sound,
the thing he fears the most,
as the beast unsheathes its blade.
And though he doesn’t understand it,
though it makes no sense,
he knows what is coming.
He whimpers as the beast impales him,
trying to control himself,
to hide his weakness.
He wants to fight it, even tries,
but he is just a boy,
and the beast is too strong.

Eventually, the poison-tipped blade is drawn from him,
but the damage is done,
its blight left inside his body,
and he wants to cry for his mother,
but he knows better than that.
He knows the beast will listen for his cries,
and seek her too, if it hears.
All he can do is stay silent,
and prepare for the next full moon.

He is just a boy,
but one day he will be strong—
One day he will win.

The Party

Surrounded by friends, he remains silent.
There are people here he hasn’t spoken to for years;
people he had forgotten about;
people who had surely forgotten about him.
And yet they have come.
They are here for him
but he remains silent.
He never was very good company.
If anything, he would have preferred no party at all.
But then, that’s not the done thing.
So there is a party
but he remains silent.
It really is a rather good party;
but he has no idea;
he never was a lover of parties.
He’d always preferred quiet time,
private time,
and if not for these guests,
whom he had not invited,
that’s what he would be doing now.
They talk about him
but he remains silent.
Some talk to him,
but he remains silent.
Several weep at his very feet,
but he remains silent.
Now and ever.

Sing to me…

Sing to me
as I drift to sleep.
Let me sail upon your melody
from these shores
into the depths of unconsciousness.
May the last thing I hear
before I sink
beneath the cool surface
be the softness of your voice.
May the words
stay with me
in the eternal dream
of the hereafter.
Enshroud me with your harmony
that I be buried with your song
and have it echo through the heavens
and mingle with the music of angels.
I do not ask of you
to weep for me
for I am not sad.
We have both been waiting
and now it is time for me to go;
My only remaining wish is this:
as I drift to sleep,
sing to me.

Riding Seahorses

He stands, silent, still, staring out,
twin moons looking back;
their light bounces off the crests of waves
and the swell of clouds, spectral in the night sky.
Behind him, the dark swallows up the world,
perching him here on the edge of the earth,
waves crashing before him,
licking at his bare feet likes flames
from the depths of hell.
He doesn’t make a sound, he just listens.
Listens and watches.
He isn’t afraid – it’s more than fear;
he respects the sea.
Such formidable power,
the strength to create and to destroy,
to shape a world,
to take a life.
He remembers his sister -
how she loved the sea -
her tousled hair, her freckled cheeks, her tireless grin,
the terrible silence that replaced her.
He imagines her stricken, fighting the currents,
falling forever – down to the darkest part of this black world.
He imagines her cries stifled by salty, unsatiable breaths.
He imagines the light leaving her eyes, her body still.
He imagines her swimming with mermaids and riding seahorses.
He smiles.
How she loved the sea.

Moving On

I can feel you forgetting me,
feel myself fading.
Once I flowed through you,
rushing like a river,
slicing great canyons of sorrow
but now that river has stilled
and is slowly freezing solid.

I can feel you moving on,
feel myself falling behind.
Once I walked beside you,
ever present,
casting a shadow across your heart,
but now that shadow has diffused
and is slowly giving way to a new light.

I can feel you loving again,
feel myself losing my grip.
Once I encompassed your world,
the only thing you believed in,
holding you back from life,
but now that anxiety has dropped away
and is slowly becoming the past.

I can feel a great relief,
feel you living your dreams.
Once I worried you were broken for good,
lost alone forever,
but now you are taking steps anew
and are slowly becoming who you once were.

A Lifetime

A lifetime looking—
nothing found. 
Still, I say not waste,
for a lifetime looking
is a life of purpose, and
though I never found you,
I know from dreams
that you were worth a thousand lives. 

Letter

Write me a letter;
it’s all that I ask.
Not that you mail it,
I need never know,
but put down in words
the things that you feel,
the things that you know,
and those that you don’t.
Write everything;
any thought that comes to mind,
and every feeling you might have,
and when you’ve finished
come to me
and tell me you love me.
I will wait for you.
And if you never come,
I shall understand.
And if you’re by my side tomorrow,
I shall know that it is real.

Hold Tight

They told us that we’d never make it,
but look at how far we’ve come,
A love like this, you can’t fake it,
so I know that you’re the one.
And it hasn’t been easy I know,
and we still have a long way to go;
but stay by my side, hold on tight
’cause what we have is worth the fight.

You didn’t think we could do it,
believed it would be too tough.
But girl, I always knew it;
we just had to love enough
And I know we’re not there yet,
but no matter how hard it gets
I’ll stay by your side, hold you tight
’cause if we’re together we’ll be alright.

New Soul

In the half-light born,
a brand new soul
to a dying world.
Shadows over soft blue eyes,
looking to a future
no one chose.
Once,
such events were celebrated:
a fresh-lit flame,
a beacon of love,
a bundle of joy.
But this is a changed world.
One in which new parents
feel only apologetic–
where birth is mourned,
and death yearned for.

Slave

Never let them get to you
let your passion burn.
Even though they shackle you,
it’s what you choose to feel that’s true;
keep your mind away from them
and deep inside, you shall have freedom.

Keep on keeping on,
dance your dance,
sing your song,
move your merry self along.

But resolve grows thin and short
and time is tough and long.

You let them take your soul
so you belong
and never look them in the eye
never yours to reason why
just do as you are told
getting busy growing old.

Get on getting on,
play your game,
sharpen your tongue,
move your wicked self along.

Oh how time has weakened you,
when you were once so strong.