The serenity of the glade,
lulling me into a sense of security,
false or not, my battered senses cannot tell,
the diminished shadow of the elm; amused,
as I sit beneath its shade,
happy to have escaped the groping clutches of hell.
I look into the swirling mist,
A shimmering haze of countless possibilities that the future holds,
and I smile.
Tomorrow beckons, yesterday; a distant past,
today, in the here and now,
my spirit thaws, the resistance folds.
Mesmerised with the peace,
entranced with the silence,
I shrug away the uneasy whispers,
as the harmless whispering of trees,
An unknown dread descends still; dreadfully familiar,
My imagination I decide,
As an oft heard refrain eerily rides the breeze,
'You can run but you can't hide'.
So, cavalier, I continue,
the threat, too expected to scare
shielded by sheer grit I lie in wait,
exposed I wouldn't dare,
and the scene unfolds,
flawless as a thoroughly practiced act,
my breathless desperation, the brittle fingers of a rotted past
in a death grip over my neck,
my eyes brim over in despair, anger, regret,
just before I'm plunged headfirst,
into the river's icy breast.
It be damned 'twas expected,
It be damned I've been through the shock before,
the gluttonous pain returns,
with poisonous fangs,
to devour me some more,
and I writhe under the onslaught,
of haunted ghastly memories,
breaking down my door,
till I manage to still my breathing,
and call out to the trusted silence
till it drowns out the cheering demons,
gleeful at the evening score.
I thrust out my hand at reality,
grasp it in a firm hold,
and break through the clutches,
of the familiar enemy of old,
the heat of my mutiny,
melting away the cold.
I smile a weary smile,
at the willful reminder of life,
I may be one step ahead,
but hell isn't too far behind,
and though the pain recedes,
it leaves its scars; strife.
With a chuckle and a pen ready for rhyme,
I shut the door on my past,
knowing all too well it lingers,
waiting for a window in time.