Horizon                                                                                                                                                       K.W. Adamson

 

I’m gonna 

go back to

the place where

you left me.

 

It’s that time of the day

that time of the day --

when the red pools on

the horizon.

 

It’s a defining moment when

crows crave the sky and

their shadows in the willow

make people afraid.

 

So misunderstood.

 

I remember this deadly dream:

   a murder fills the sky.

People fear what they need to hear

and here is what they fear to hear:

 

Spread across a long white banner,

letters spark and burn.

Those kids who wear horrific masks,

pulled by a flying white truck on parade,

they stare dead - without a word.

The sign, it reads:

​

“3 in the morning: 3 AM - 

 Kill or Be killed.”

 

It’s the voice that urges them on.

Ingrained into impulse to

“Buy a gun and start a fire!

Start a war in this peaceful heart!”

I lock all my doors out of fear

of anarchy and attack.

 

Has my Wolf come back?

 

There’s another voice:

 

“You never had a wolf,” he said

you just made him up

because you hate yourself, my friend

and it’s easier to hate yourself if

you’re a wolf and not yourself--

­­ but someone else who could be killed.

 

Like a murder of crows,

you search without end

with your red pools

for eyes and ­­

 

you want to be known.

 

This wolf has grown up in your head.

He’s made a killing

in your peripheral vision because you fed him.

​

Do you remember when

you first saw his face?

He was so weak;

almost dead.

 

Was he even there?

 

It’s a defining moment when

the crows carve the sky.

They could care less what people say;

all of the stories of murder are fake.

Aren’t you tired of running

from all your self-­hate?

​

Yes, fear knocks at your door,

here to start his war, he knocks at your door.

But so do I.

 

I want to

take you to

a place ­­ free --

of lies.