In this Hostile Garden [new poem]

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Creepy Forest

Sliding reluctantly into this hostile garden
where broken angels hide behind majestic trees
pretending they’re the golden dawn at prayer
(for I had soonly seen there were no calluses
upon their knees — no light extraordinaire),
I resolutely, though somewhat naively, asked:
“Why don’t you stand upon the forest canopy
with glee, rejoicing at the future never-ending
dawn instead of skulking in those shadows
while the people who you animate are torn to
shreds?” @ which they looked @ me with scorn
and threatened me with all the forces of their
armoury (a common act of bullies I have found),
in spite of which I purposefully stood my ground.

And then I noticed when I made it plain to them
that I had no intentions of retreating from their
(sorry but I have to say it) fearsome stench,
their threatenings ceased in their ferocity
and they lost interest in my presence (which,
by then, was bathed in the most indescribable
of lights), and they at last fell speechless
— for before they had been blasting me with
non-stop insults, accusations, goads as well as
slanders on my soul, which they had claimed
was truly theirs; but I protested that was lies.
For once upon a time I heard a voice so perfect
in its intonation, timbre, confirmation which had
come from someone infinitely wiser than those
rebels who, by choice, had put themselves
in service of the dark and subsequently lost
their spark, as anyone whose soul is free can see.

And thus, through that experience, I learned that
all that’s needed by the one already dedicated to
the reign of Truth and Light, in order to withstand
the creatures of the mire, is simply just to stand,
unfazed and in the wedding of the Lamb’s attire.
For all they have is just a bark, no bite, unless
you foolishly oppose the Light, & then they’ll have
your heels 2 bring U down & wallow in their mire
& wear their strange attire made of neverending
night, 4 here U have to fight within these hostile
garden walls. There is no ‘right’ of passage on this
fallen playground’s twilight nightmare stage.
In fact, there are no rights at all — just duties, as
you’ll see if with the Voice above you will engage.


© Alan Morrison, 2019

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