Come to;
back in the old place.
Each heartbeat,
sweats and staggers,
the vision;
a tilted view.
The story
of a crooked man.
He went down to the shore
to wallow in his discontentm
drinking seawater
to stave off the scourge
of sanity.
He never noticed,
the figure standing idly by,
watching his distemper
with a long and patient eye.
Even when the heavens opened,
he stood under the clouds
and let the rain come down upon him.
The whole town could hear him shout
and watch through parted shades,
him shuffling crookedly by
as he passed,
the unseen figure followed.
His constant companion;
unacknowledged.
Back to his ramshackle house,
he’d try to rest,
but sleep came like a thief
to steal away what consciousness he had
and leave him
with nightmares
and screams;
trapped between gritted teeth.
All the while,
the tall and silent figure,
stood at the foot of the bed
and watched him;
waiting, guarding, or perhaps,
just curiously observing,
the crooked man’s fitful slumber.
One bright morning,
the neighborhood was buzzing
with the story
of a tall and dark figure
that walked up into the sky
at the stroke of midnight.
Walking with him,
was a young man;
bearing more than a passing semblance
to their crotchety old neighbor,
who, it was found,
to have passed on in his bed.
No longer would the crooked man
stand upon the shore;
throwing curses at the sky
and drinking seawater
to quiet the memories in his head.
Gone on a last, long walk;
his silent companion by his side.
Off, into the night time sky;
straight as an arrow
to a crooked eye.
HG – 2017
