Poet warrior's Blog: Poems, articles and musings.
At the heart of it all.
Picture him, the one at the heart of all these shadows. A lost and lonely boy, silent and watchful. What was going on around him scared him so much that at first he sought refuge in the shadow, then shelter and finally a place to feel safe and belong.
In return the shadows were at first a shawl to wrap him in, then an itchy woollen jumper and finally a big coat so that no one could see how sad, lonely and alone the boy was. A big coat that was capped with feelings of shame and guilt.
The shadows called; the ghosts of things that had happened, the spectres of the things that could have happened and the furies of thing that were happening. Finally a demon came to grab his hand and claim him.
Once the boy had wished to be less alone and now he longed for it as doubts and fears gnawed at him below the big coat that was stop him feeling; sad lonely and alone.
The more he tried to fill the holes created by the gnawing doubts the emptier he felt. The more he tried to cover his face and his fears the lonelier he felt.
In amongst the moans and groans he could hear a wailing that he knew was his and which repeated “This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. How did this happen?”
Even the demon’s grip that had felt re-assuring now burned and blackened.
The big coat with its cap wasn’t re-assuring.
“Surely” he reasoned someone will help me. Someone will tell me what to do. So he waited and waited until he came to realise that; the ghosts lamented what had happened, the spectres moaned what may happen and the furies decried what was happening. No rhyme nor reason. No sense or song. And the demon, the demon just laughed knowing that he’d won without having to do anything.