A Requiem In The Wood

Set beside the light
under a requiem play
to the service of those
who've whispered in agony
their final words
a death before death dies.

In darkness a mirror they gaze
into the mask distorted face
of their withered bitter existence
of the hearts always remembered
but forgotten are they.

To what heroism do they pay?
A life of yeses and uttered agreement
A life of terror as in premonition.
A life of sitting on the edge of the bed
of the lover they've wed
tomorrow this face
will turn cold and grow old.

But not to them,
not to them do their memories fail
for they live in the redness of their eyes
a bloody river which murks the world
it's all they have and all they know.
They once knew the inside of their friends
walked among the fields of truths.
Or were there weeds of lies among the grains?
Who should know what they became?
One day so close.
Blink.
And they're walking away.

Thinking is all they should know,
thought deep in what they refer to
as passion of knowledge
and the acceptance of folly.

For it was they who were convinced.
Convinced of the good there was within.
Within those fields they danced,
a ballet to the debt of yesterday
and the promise of tomorrow.
Sitting in trees of songs,
no more good-byes
should need be cried.


Love who should they have known,
years, centuries ago
if it had been found.
Lost in the wood where every stone
looked the same
and every wolf
called her name.

But in silence this bird flew on
into that wilderness
and with every sweet berry
passed poison through her blood.
The accumulation of gracefully masked trickery
soon broke her wings...
among other things.

They stare on.
They know this fate
for they too have lived this way.
Broken bones,
broken soul,
a life of empty lay on the forest floor.

On look the scavengers
to feast the remains.
It is her gift
all that is left of her to give.

And that there is where,
a requiem play.
And she will join they
who died that very same day.