And like Charlamagne
My past is
Littered with the
Corpses of men
Most are unremembered
Those that are
That I thought
Special gone too
All called carnage
On a campaign
To prove myself
Now alone amidst
Seas of bodies
I now wonder
In this silence
About the cost
Of my selfishness
And the price
I will pay
The ghosts are
Gone I’m no
Longer haunted by
Selfish mistakes which
Tripped me as
I ran through
What appeared to
Be a prairie
But which was
Really a cemetery
Filled with skeletons
And noxious things
Free at last
I sit alone
Past the forgiving
Onto the forgetting
Sometimes the deepest
Hole offers the
Most amazing silence
The entire world
Is up there
Scurrying dashing about
But me oh
Me I’m down
Here resting wiping
My brow content
Before I start
Digging even deeper
Certain that I
Will come out
On the other
Side of this
Rather than digging
Yet another hole
Yesterday was filled
With sunshine and
Frivolity like I
Was sitting at
A cafe near
The Seine people
Watching while enjoying
A sparkling aperitif
It was you
There are days
When I feel
Like an oak
And other days
When I feel
Like a willow
There are days
When I feel
Like a lion
And other days
When I feel
Like a mouse
But most days
I feel like
A river winding
Its way past
Boulders over mountains
And into valleys
On my way
To the sea
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 