PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I lay it down slowly.

Though I suppose that there's no reason to be cautious.

Even still, with a body in front of my eyes

I still feel threatened.

Though, I ought to be quick.

Knives in the kitchen.

No, take too much time.

My father's samurai sword?

Yes, that's it.

Swiftly I bound the stairs to my father's old den.

Grabbing the cold folded metal I run back.

The body is gone.

How?

Incapable.

Eight rounds from my Uncle's Desert Eagle .50.

I search the house.

He's not to be found.

I turn to go upstairs and there he is.

Standing before me at the top of the staircase.

He descends the stairs slowly.

"Be not afraid."

He says to me.

I can still see the bullet wounds in his chest and abdomin.

"You have strayed from my Father's path."

Why is he coming to me?

I want this to go away, yet I listen to him.

"He forgives. I forgive. Rise and seek peace within."

He reaches me and with a blood stained thumb

He makes a cross on my forehead.



I wake in a cold sweat.

An empty bottle of vodka next to me.

I go to the bathroom.

As I splash water on my face

I see a trickle of red in the sink.

I look up at myself in my mirror to find nothing on me.

I walk to my bed and sit down.

I search through my nightstand.

Beneath the car magazines and newspaper articles I find it.

My new found salvation.

I lay back and begin to read.