LITTLE MARY
One day while I was walking home
I passed a temple made of stone
Where a woman stood outside
Heavy with weariness and child
She looked so small against the walls
Of marble and granite and mortar
Until she smiled and smoothed her veil
And said she lived not far from there
In a cottage with earthen floors
And a wooden cradle by the door
A little bed for which to keep
And rock her little lamb to sleep
Behind me lay a barren stretch of desert
Full of sand, scrub and thistle
Decaying plans, mistakes and regrets
Lay there like bloated, rotting corpses
Though weary of pressing forward
I could hardly bear to turn around
Or even stand still for long
Due to the horrible stench of it
In front of me lay a dark wood
Eerie, sinister and full of traps
Hovering above were ominous clouds
A thick layer of fog obscured the way
As I stood staring into the abyss
I made out shadowy outlines of trees
Outstretched branches poised to snag me
And bare twisted roots to trip me
As the sun set and temperatures fell
I thought to succumb to the frozen darkness
Until I saw my sister the moon
And resolved to keep walking
By morning the dark rain clouds
Had turned to a misty blue gray
And the first flakes of snow
Seemed to wash away my numbness
When the sun finally broke through
I could see my path clearly before me
Whilst the path behind me had vanished
Beneath a clean white blanket of snow
If I had a hundred thousand years
And a hundred thousand rag mops
I could not swab up all the buckets
Of blood, sweat and tears
Shed by all the true believers
In their seeming limitless capacity
For self-inflicted pain and misery
And though their collective grievances
Cries and complaints are so deafening
As to drown out nearly everything else
The world is very large, after all
And filled with a myriad of creatures
Each and every one being unique
And interesting in their own way
And who though humble and mute
Would also have our attention
Instead, they are mostly ill used
Imprisoned, butchered, hunted, trapped
Skinned, exterminated, experimented on
Marginalized and disregarded
Like God, they require human voices
To speak upon their behalf
Though many would speak for God
How few would speak for them
Because the moment one does
They are marginalized and disregarded
One might as well be a bleating goat
Or a cow bellowing for her stolen calf
For all the world listens or cares
Still, the true believer is particularly harsh
Caring mostly for riddles and mysteries
To be studied and pondered over
In his incessant quest for happiness
But happiness is not hard to understand
Behold, the uncomplaining creatures
How content they are despite their troubles
They do not grieve over their past
Fret over poverty or future lack
Nor fight over lands or whatever else
They can greedily lay their hands upon
Though their needs be simple and few
Even these are usually denied
How many shall escape a violent death?
And who shall remember them in prayer?
Surely, only the silly and misguided
Could care for the bleeding pig
Or the pitiful, squeaking rat
Dying in its trap for the sin of existing?
Behold, the true believer
Eyes firmly fixed upon the heavens
Or busily deciphering his scripture
Whilst ignoring the tragedy of his own making
He never cried nor made a sound
When I put him in the ground
Placed his heart right next to mine
And dug a grave inside my mind
Why oh why, moon in the sky
Did I believe that love could die?
Be forgotten or lie down
To sleep inside the cold, cold ground
A long, long time ago
I shut the door of my heart
After a long, long time
Of slowly drifting away
The air had turned cold
The leaves shriveled up and died
And I gradually forgot summer
Because that is the way life is
Or so everybody told me
Except for one person
To whom I had whispered
All of my hopes and dreams
Only he never believed me
Which wasn't too surprising
Since nobody else did either
And then he turned out to be
Only a summer dream himself
Or so I thought, until one day
A stranger stepped out from
The stark trees and dead leaves
Of a cold and barren wood
His face dripping with blood
From bashing it against a door
And I stared for a long, long time
In shocked concern and horror
Before it dawned on me
That a long, long time ago
I had been somebody's dream
I had been following
A narrow trickle of a brook
For a thousand miles
Only to find myself suddenly
Staring out at a vast blue ocean
Stretching far as the eye can see
Knowing I will never have to
Wander the earth ever again
What a provincial suburb
The world always was
Next to your enormous castle
Which I have only begun to explore
Unquiet soul, though you are gone
You won't stay away too long
Your soul is like the deep blue sea
Too deep for anyone but me
I drink you in like cooling water
After walking in a desert
Where anybody else would choke
I feel no fire nor smell no smoke
Some people like the autumn leaves
Falling gently from the trees
Turning amber in their dying
Like dried blood from crucifying
Others love the baby's breath
Or summer's rose as red as death
So beautiful, yet so forlorn
It wears a deadly crown of thorns
Said the raven to the lark
'See the rainbow in the dark
See the color's misty glow
For it is that time you know'
The lark looked up at him and said
'Won't you fix my aching head?
It hurts me so I cannot sleep
And I have promises to keep'
Said the raven to the lark
'If you will mend my broken heart
Then I will fix your aching head'
And that is what the raven said