The House Of The Rising Sun

I found myself in an unknown place,
at an early hour, when I just woke.
It was not my home, nor did I remember
what brought me to this lonely space.
It was a forest, a deciduous kind,
not near my house, around which lived pine.
My bed clothes still clean from the last night’s wash,
I realized I had no watch.
But then soon, the sun began to rise.
I could see more clearly through my adjusted eyes.
I looked around for human life –
but I could find none, and so I turned.
Turned toward the eastern front,
toward the sun, toward where there could be someone.
With nothing to protect my feet, except my socks,
which offered no protective feat,
I wandered in the easterly direction,
until I stumbled upon a pool, and found by own reflection.
And beyond this pool, this tarn it could be called,
was a monstrous rubble, covered in moss and other lichen.
It looked like stone, maybe brick,
stuck with cement, but as I could see, it did not stick.
There was an air above the moss, one conceived so thick ’twas hard to move across.
But I did not want to move across, no, for in this air was a danger, a danger I could not know.
It struck me all over, not only on my body, but also in my private mind.
Pervading all my senses, rendering my heart defenseless.
I told myself I must not venture, not over this tarn and not over this direction.
I maintained a healthy distance, and ushered my way around, toward the eastern sun, where I knew hope could be found.
I knew not to look back, to never glance again. For that feeling of evil still rested on my skin.

Advertisements

Feel free to offer critique or encouragement.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s