BrokenEchoes

  We field commanders are due at to meet in one month’s time There is a summit to share news, wins and losses To form and adjust strategies I have little to report My small, distant land is poor Our warriors are weak or old or both We don’t have the helms, swords, or shields we need We don’t have the skills to craft them, or gold to buy them. These are strong loyal men Who will defend this land to their last breath But many have never held a weapon And none have been trained I myself am a cook I’m meant to feed men, not lead them I fell into this commander role  At the death of my predecessor I’ve been stumbling ever since I am the commander of these troops I put on a face of calm strength Of confidence and impending victory At the summit, I am the least of many The commander of a tiny remote territory Ignored or forgotten Along with my homeland Along with my people I am failing them I don’t have the skills or knowledge I need There is no one to pass this burden to We will los...

  I have lived this life before But I can’t remember enough to make a change My memories are unreliable and blurry Everyone I meet is vaguely familiar Each face evokes emotions of hidden remembrance Someone’s gait will spark subtle nostalgia Interactions sharpen my focus, but only slightly I recognize when my life approaches pivotal events It maddens me that I cannot recall the significance Or the sequence Thus every sorrow is twice-lived Every mistaken decision is repeated All my pains and miseries are doubled Because I have lived this life before But I can’t remember enough to make a change.

They nearly always appear friendly They walk straight and tall With no outward hint of the Small crooked creatures they truly are They come off as loyal But betrayal is with them always They seem to bring luck and comfort But cause painful, troublesome times Hear them if you must But do not listen Travel them if they can be a benefit But never trust them Deal with them with caution Do not let them sway you.

  We left church after dark On a cool October evening We made our way down the concrete steps Toward the step-side Chevy Father was exceedingly proud of it Blood red glinting in the moonlight There was an older gentleman Gaunt and grey and stooped I could tell that he needed help He was uncertain on the steep stairs Searching furtively for the next one Shaking arms on the railing “Help him,” I implored my father He looked angrily into my eyes Then he walked on He offered the elder no aid I had never been more disappointed My father knowingly refused to help He continued to the truck uncaring The old man likely never crosses his mind I recall that event often That evening I learned an important lesson I had put too much faith in my father He was just a man  

  When I was offered a bowl of flame I drank eagerly There was a promise of havoc And I had a thirst for chaos I yearned for any novelty Any disruption to this mundane survival So I drained the blazing vessel And dashed it to shards on the floor I readied myself for excitement that did not come The wildfire spread within me, but quickly Dwindled to a burnt-out smolder Ashes coated my guts  My bones were soot-blackened I should never have expected more I returned with disappointment to my empty existence.