mayvaneday/poetry/c/clocktower.txt

Clocktower Blitz
2022-04-06

***

Please, my love, come home unharmed.
It's been almost a month since I
found you injured, limping, on a farm
half-familiar, glowing hearth.
We've been here before- or, at least, I have,
wandering in sprawling fields
trying to find homebound path.

Because isn't that
what this is all about?
Trying to find the way back home
despite all those who've declared
themselves roadblocks, obstacles.
Each of us condemned to roam,
sometimes aimless, usually on our own,
no one to ask us how we fare.

The bloodlust of my youth has faded away.
I've grown sick of conflict, of battles, of war.
How can anyone think cold-blooded murder holds glamour?
I'm sick as an invalid
two steps in the grave
of every moment worrying if you're okay.

"If there was a path
out of this heartbreak
without suffering any pain,
believe me,
Lethe,
I'd take it in a single breath."

I'd rather die
than live a thousand lives
safe but absent from your light.
But there's nothing I can do
as you ascend the campus clock tower
with staff in hand,
ready and prepared to make a last stand.
"I need you to know I feel the same.
Truth be told, I always have.
I've got a bad limp, but if I get my way,
you won't have to wait
much longer."

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander