My hands touched the face of a thing made clean
baptized in blood and wine when no one could tell the difference
The dead rose also from the still waters
and went following the lantern light into smoke-filled lands
a procession of empty eyes upon the world
who saw only the beckoning hand
and heard only a beautiful voice
soft in their ears
whispering of memories already grown vague
But it was enough
Enough to light the cleansing fire
to incinerate the forest and leave only more smoke, more ash
falling like snow on the sunken ones
who waited beneath the still waters
for a reaper song to carry them away to the world’s rebirth
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Just realized I have two weeks left before I move back to Denver, when for some reason in my head I thought I only had one. Yay?
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Photo by Ahmed Zayan on Unsplash
The Light is On 
3 responses to “Empty Eyes”
Turn away! look no more upon that face!
Scrub clean your hands in the desert sand,
touch not the water in those dark pools.
Be not lured by by ghostly lights into the foul murk
that will rob clarity from your eyes.
Where cold hands will guide you away from truth,
a siren song the only sound,
whispering cacophony in your ears,
drowning memories once held dear,
creating doubt, kindling rage.
Rage that ignites a soul consuming flame
who’s oily smoke rises from a slag heap of once feeling hearts,
choking with gritty cinders
the thralls who follow close behind,
locking step in the charlatan’s greener grass.
Your poem came alive in my dark, twisted, frustrated, somewhat dismayed and disgusted with the general incompetence of those who are supposed to be competent, but still hopeful and optimistic imagination. I have fun responding like this. Great work, now I’ll have to try to catch up on what I’ve missed.
I’ve been on break for a while, not much time for writing, composing, or reading. I will be working on changing that soon.
I’m up way past my bed time and have an early morning tomorrow.
Good night and be well Mitch.
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Your writing is magnifique! 😍
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Thank you so much (:
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