Scared as a crow I fear the always open field,
Armour ready, steady shield,
My march is glacier slow.
As hard is the rock and open the place,
Iron shoes, lactic lace,
My back is arched like a clock stuck at two.
Head cracked with ball and fist,
Frustration racing, mind blitzed,
My teeth grind the board with gritted chalk.
I rest my forehead against the clawed door,
Eyes shut, fingers sore,
I am weighed with anchored breath.
Tomorrow, always tomorrow,
Words hollow, tears follow,
My thoughts banshee the muted wall.
With all that is sudden the door closes,
That man I know leaves, gliding shut on a gentle breeze,
Who knows when he will return.
Now all is quiet as silence is still,
Slowed heart, hushed shrill,
I reclaim what pieces I can.
Copyright © 2018 Charlie Hasler.