Fur and Hide

Posted: March 19, 2015 in Poetry

He places the stones gently in my path,

So that I can try to cross the torrent beneath my feet,

I know he just wants to watch me pass,

And make sure I don’t fall or falter…

He knows as well as I do,

That here the nightmares can breathe,

They will smell me as soon as I go,

And try to drive me to my knees…

My hand is never empty,

Even while my mind is terrified,

I know he’s there, but I can’t feel a thing,

And my steps grow ever less wide…

When the water turns to fire,

And singes off everything but my hair,

Only then will the ice come,

To try to freeze me out of my stare…

A gilded path is only a torrid lie,

A gross misrepresentation,

Meant to comfort you as you die,

And allay any hesitance of submission…

I always make it to the other side,

But rarely ever unscathed,

I lose some fur and hide,

But I still conquered the path unpaved…


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