Truth So Intoned (+2)

The Piper of destiny

 calls from the unknown

 

Without lyre or harp,

 his truth so intoned  

 

All sirens left deafened,

 tumbling over themselves

 

As a choir of Angels

 —from his flute are bespelled

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

 

 

The Last Traveler

 

The end rose up to greet him,

 the last traveler undisposed

 

Its final words, the last he heard

 —as the past and future closed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

 

 

Free Of Doubt

 

Back in their nests,

  birds chirping out loud

Retreated in bed,

  a boy dreams ‘what if now’

The moonlight not finished,

  what it started before

The church clothes all hanging,

  alone on the door

What once was thought ended,

  began then again

What never befriended,

   a new search to begin

The glass from the parlor,

  the long darkened hall

Reflections of squalor,

  distant riches to call

A bell starts to ring,

  signaling all bets are off

As a meadowlark sings,

  of eternity’s cost

The revelers revel,

  the sanguine proclaim

As the church starts to fill,

  and they’re calling his name

Any proof in the pudding,

  has now curdled and soured

As the chalice is filled,

  with a vision most dour

The mood is entranced,

  as time starts to drip

The minutes and hours,

   all scattered in bits

The reasons no matter,

  alone as before

And all sanity worships,

  death closing the door

Your collar goes on,

  white starched and unblessed

Your sermon made ready,

  for those still to behest

And what might you offer,

  where the prisoners hide

What salvation is proffered,

  when funded by lies

The eyes looking back,

  fixed distant and low

The eyes looking back,

  from the pews far below

Surrounded by elders,

 and deacons to scold

His eyes were then only,

  but thirteen years old

The distance seemed fatal,

  the distance seemed grim

But now looking down,

  it was all about him

To one then so young,

  and so new and so fresh

Still wanting to believe,

  in not leaving the nest

Surrounded by neighbors,

  deceivers and friends

Dressed all in his finest,

  his hair slicked on end

His eyes remained down,

 as his thoughts drifted up

His face never frowned.

  as your sermon erupts

“And what must this youth,

  think of me on this day”

Your collar getting tighter,

  praying mantis to prey

The height differential,

  the power sublime

The stairs leading up,

  for the blind to then climb

And once at the top,

  all so distant below

And once at the top,

  nothing there left to know

The birds dare not enter,

  the hawk or the dove

The cougar at center,

  devoid of all love

The peacocks outside,

  all withered and gray

The peacocks remembered,

  in colors portrayed

The hand bills were placed,

  at the end of the pews

A message designed,

  to riddle the stew

Caught up in the fable,

  caught up in the lie

To burn down the stable,

   horses scream as they fry

But the truth knows its teller,

  …that told in the end

Whose message is heaviest,

   where meaning transcends

Belonging to no-one,

  to you least of all

And to only itself,

  as the just heed its call

The blamer blasphemer,

  false prophet and whore

Silent screams from the pews,

  that they need something more

And in private you suffer,

  with a collar so tight

While in public you bombast,

  to portend and to fright

The law here unlettered,

  the reason unschooled

All souls once unfettered,

  no one left to rule

You know your time’s short now,

  all sins in the brine

That boy just below you,

   to always remind

You start at the beginning,

  you restart at the end

You start where you stopped,

  to get lost once again

As your powerful confusion,

  escapes you today

Using cryptic delusion,

  to parry and feign

Beget not the begotten,

  claiming all for yourself

All virtue forgotten,

  all feeling unfelt

If it mattered whenever,

  if it mattered at all

That meaning is hidden,

   as you struggle and fall

Accuse if you must,

  saying again to yourself

Betrayal acutely,

   is gifted unfelt

Benediction now burning,

  communion’s last host

All tides begin turning,

  more meaning to toast

The blend is left thickening,

  ruination sublime

Intention the most wicked,

  unfiltered unkind

The brave don’t get braver,

  as cowards rejoice

A knave in the shadows,

  to hide from his voice

The bend in the circumstance,

  the straightening lie

The clue that was missing,

  its poisoned reply

Walk down from your pulpit,

  those steps that won’t end

The pride and the fury,

  you stole to pretend

Looking out at the parishioners,

   his eyes are still down

And you know without asking,

  that his soul has left town

As you take your last breath,

  speaking then your last word

What once was a boy,

  separates from the herd

He gets up, turns and leaves,

  without once looking back

Your collar chokes fatally,

  his rejection attacks

The gathering outside,

  all merry and gay

The most devout neighing,

  like a horse in new hay

The church social breakfast,

    all slaps on the back

“Another great sermon, Parson,

  we had to hold our tears back”

A boy heads down the lane,

  head neither bowed nor erect

No breakfast for him,

  all celebration dissects

Knowing what he now feels,

  you will never beguile

Walking in through the back door,

  his elderly aunt smiles

Asking, “Is everything alright

  you’ve been gone quite a spell”

Her concern most maternal,

  in her thoughts he would dwell

He answers, “Everything’s fine,

  as his father distills

And closes the window,

  saying: “It’s starting to chill”

He walks up thirteen stairs,

  and lays down on the bed

Looking straight up above him,

  a floating image now dead

Asleep before noon,

  in his dream meets his peace

Knowing surrounded by doom,

  he must now leave this place

He is up before dawn,

  and back out on the lane

One sack over his shoulder,

  one orphan to claim

And the walk to the harbor,

  is rocky and steep

His trek ever steadfast,

 one promise to keep

Signing on to the first ship,

  that’s now setting sail

Setting a course that’s uncharted,

  in a sea of travail

The clouds ever darker,

  the waves though they fall

His soul is on fire,

  his spirit on call

With the ship disappearing,

  beyond sight of all land

His future now clear,

  his mission at hand

That first day on board,

  and first night below deck

Were the first that had ever,

  held him safe in their net

With dawn’s light he climbed,

  to the crow’s nest above

And said ‘Thank You” to no-one,

  his future ungloved

And he sat there for hours,

  till his name was called out

His past now a memory

  —his heart free of doubt

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2014)