The Dark End of the Road
Where life sharpens a knife for death
Often we are stagger half-dazed,
barely able to take the very next step.
Bloodshot eyes of the drunk,
struggling to get home at 4 A.M.
The storms are heavy,
and the bludgeoning relentless.
We seek the compass,
where the straight road disappears,
like a slippery snake into the forest.
Somewhere down,
the dark end of the road
the sky dips,
shyly visiting a forlorn spot.
Hope knocks on the weary heart
and the tired feet lift
to march on again.
The laden mind like a widow
looking for her lost children,
dares fear.
Even the beings of the night stop
to admire the brave charge.
Bare feet on the broken road:
blisters and blood.
Those that have been there
know that when
life sharpens a knife for death,
the heart does not leap into the stomach –
with a frightened joey’s dive
into the marsupial bunker!
It beats on with a steel pulse…
OU1211
