On Hedges and Lawns

 

I’ve struggled through this thicket hedge,

Its brambles bleed my grasping fists.

Then once again I’m looking round

And facing yet another lawn.

 

A thousand houses all the same:

I’ve lost the dream to see them all,

For what they once held out for me.

I see them all as dust and loss.

 

The lawns are free of weeds and moss

Those hours of hope and joy they took.

Their mystery stands: what led to this?

How empty had that world become?

 

I push on through the next thick hedge,

Abandoned up to prayers and fears.

Theseus and the Beast

 

To gods we are forgotten beasts

Whose only sacrifice is time.

We play, we suffer, pointlessly:

We know that look of weary rage.

 

If we were older, you and I,

A fight like this would seem absurd.

We’d sit together, spin our yarns,

And cling to deeds that once meant all.

 

I see the scars about your face,

The way you sway and hesitate.

You seem too heavy on your feet.

You don’t react, you hardly move.

 

No questions, cries or final words.

No mercy begged, no mercy shown.