General   (General discussion, talk about anything.)

MIDNIGHT AND THE REAPER
Based on the events of Monday 14th September


From behind the moonlight,
a hand strikes - a blow
as cold as ice.
Down we go
as the reaper draws his scythe...
I catch the flat of a blade;
and it is now that I am afraid.
Through the midnight black
I pull back,
but cannot see his face.
Further down we go,
as blow after blow,
across a carpet cold.
He retreats to come again:
and pulls harder as we break.
My arm is weak,
as I seek my voice
to speak...
A word, a light,
I cry out for mercy mild,
but it is he who withdraws...
And I am a child-
alone in the midnight hour.
My speech wavers
and words come slow...
But he has gone...retreated
to warily go,
with his broken scythe
and all along a moonlit road.
Now he can hear my cry....
'Strike me not-
for fear it will be your last!'
As I am cast as one not to break...
But to heed the good spirit's will;
that is with me now and still;
coming from death's eerie wake,
to speak clear and fulfill-
this good life never to forsake...
But to stand tall again and still.
To stand tall again and still.



Jarvo 2020