He found himself
in the blackness of Hell
save for the fiery encampment
of the Smithy's barbed wire fence
ablaze in the stillness of his mind.
Each thought brought
a painful puncture
bleeding
the sorrow of memories
(long buried but not forgotten).
Alas, grief it seems
employs a manifold of faces
each coveting
it own unique facade
to posture the devastation
that lay in its wake.
For some the heart screams
soundlessly behind a wretched smile
stoicism a hopeless mile trekked
to ease the onlookers
a mistaken obligation
for the tormented.
While others shudder
the quills of a porcupine
ready to pierce
the empathic farmer
who is happy to sow the seeds
where sallow soil
of spongy grey matter is lost
in the dust of despair.
And even more are those
pathetic souls
who seek sympathetic ears
and beg an audience of listeners
to absorb the sounds
of their woeful dirge
and hope for pity
to emerge and stay
their endlessly selfish needs.
So too, it was with the Junkman's grief
inclined
as weighty rocks of guilt
lay yoked upon his shoulders, bare
trembling in the icy snare
of death's remorse,
even though Baptism had plotted
his course with new beginnings
paved the rutted roads
judgments disposed (despite Anubis)
and antipodes
to this earthly dwelling
over swelling with buckets
of tendered kindling
ready to flame
The Garden of Eden
and restore Sodom and Gomorrah
brick by brick.
Yet, he clung to the illusory shadows
in the nightmare
of wind whispered words
stamped and addressed
to his multitude of fears.
He crouched in the ring of fire
burning with the desire
to know, to understand
the hands upon the piano keys
embracing The Moonlight Sonata
through deaf ears.
Oh,
cowardly soul
why in wisdom's name
do you proclaim such steadfast faith
in Heaven's gate
while wandering with such
desperate feet
into the wilderness of the unknowable
only to hoard
the bitter sweet candy
of Death?
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