Black Lake

Black lake, with shores of shattered bone,
An evil place, so cold like stone,
Where carrion hangs and bodies rot,
Where wounded souls are soon forgot.

Black lake, with waves that rock the boat,
All prayers are lost though said by rote,
Where mists conceal the waiting eyes,
Where calling voices spread their lies.

Black lake, where chilling wind does blow,
With white caps forming, just as snow,
Where ‘neath the water creatures wait,
Where careless hands will hang like bait.

Black lake, the place where I am bound,
No more to step on solid ground,
Where I will lay and rest my head,
Where ever now I’ll hold the dead.

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The Lake

We walk,
along the shore of an
unnamed lake.
Barefoot,
we watch the drifting
mist, the color of a
Parisienne’s cigarette
smoke.
In this silence,
my words so pregnant
with promises broken,
sound a clarion call
to accusation.
Yet sainted your
undeniable,
inexhaustible
patience saves this
heart once more.